ARBOR  DAY 


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ARBOR     DAY 


ITS  HISTORY,  OBSERVANCE,  SPIRIT  AND 
SIGNIFICANCE ;  WITH  PRACTICAL  SELEC- 
TIONS ON  TREE-PLANTING  AND  CONSER- 
VATION,  AND    A   NATURE   ANTHOLOGY 


EDITED    BY 

ROBERT    HAVEN    SCHAUFFLER 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


NEW  YORK 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 

1909 


Cofyright,  r()og,  by 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 

New  York 

Puhliihed,  October,  igog 


of 


ARBOR  DAY  LETTER 
OF  THEODORE  ROOSEVELT,  PRESIDENT, 

TO   THE 
SCHOOL  CHILDREN  OF  THE   UNITED   STATES 

Arbor  Day  ( which  means  simply  "  Tree  Day  "  ) 
is  now  observed  in  every  state  in  our  Union — and 
mainly  in  the  schools.  At  various  times,  from  Jan- 
uary to  December,  but  chiefly  in  this  month  of 
April,  you  give  a  day  or  part  of  a  day  to  special 
exercises  and  perhaps  to  actual  tree  planting,  in  recog- 
nition of  the  importance  of  trees  to  us  as  a  Nation,  and 
of  what  they  yield  in  adornment,  comfort,  and  useful 
products  to  the  communities  in  which  you  live. 

It  is  well  that  you  should  celebrate  your  Arbor 
Day  thoughtfully,  for  within  your  lifetime  the 
Nation's  need  of  trees  will  become  serious.  We  of 
an  older  generation  can  get  along  with  what  we 
have,  though  with  growing  hardship ;  but  in  your 
full  manhood  and  womanhood  you  will  want  what 
nature  once  so  bountifully  supplied,  and  man  so 
thoughtlessly  destroyed  ;  and  because  of  that  want 
you  will  reproach  us,  not  for  what  we  have  used, 
but  for  what  we  have  wasted. 

For  the  nation,  as  for  the  man  or  woman  or  boy 
or  girl,  the  road  to  success  is  the  right  use  of  what 

V 

201929 


vi  ARBOR  DAY 

we  have  and  the  improvement  of  present  opportu- 
nity. If  you  neglect  to  prepare  yourselves  now  for 
the  duties  and  responsibilities  which  will  fall  upon 
you  later,  if  you  do  not  learn  the  things  which  you 
will  need  to  know  when  your  school  days  are  over, 
you  will  suffer  the  consequences.  So  any  nation 
which  in  its  youth  lives  only  for  the  day,  reaps 
without  sowing,  and  consumes  without  husbanding, 
must  expect  the  penalty  of  the  prodigal,  whose  labor 
could  with  difficulty  find  him  the  bare  means  of  life. 
A  people  without  children  would  face  a  hopeless 
future  ;  a  country  without  trees  is  almost  as  hope- 
less ;  forests  which  are  so  used  that  they  cannot 
renew  themselves  will  soon  vanish,  and  with  them 
all  their  benefits.  A  true  forest  is  not  merely  a 
storehouse  full  of  wood,  but,  as  it  were,  a  factory 
of  wood,  and  at  the  same  time  a  reservoir  of  water. 
When  you  help  to  preserve  our  forests  or  plant  new 
ones  you  are  acting  the  part  of  good  citizens.  The 
value  of  forestry  deserves,  therefore,  to  be  taught  in 
the  schools,  which  aim  to  make  good  citizens  of 
you.  If  your  Arbor  Day  exercises  help  you  to 
realize  what  benefits  each  one  of  you  receives  from 
the  forests,  and  how  by  your  assistance  these  ben- 
efits may  continue,  they  will  serve  a  good  end. 

Theodore  Roosevelt. 
The  White  House,  April  15,  1907. 


PREFACE 

The  recent  awakening  of  a  national  interest 
in  the  movement  toward  the  conservation  of  our 
natural  resources  has  emphasized  the  need  for  a 
collection  of  literature  on  all  phases  of  Arbor  Day 
more  modem  than  the  excellent  Manual  published 
by  New  York  in  1889  and  more  comprehensive 
than  the  many  small  Arbor  Day  annuals  brought 
out  by  the  various  states. 

The  editor  has  aimed  to  include  in  the  present 
volume  the  most  practical  as  well  as  the  most 
beautiful  essays,  articles,  letters,  stories,  exercises, 
and  poems  that  have  been  written  about  Arbor  Day, 
its  history,  observance,  spirit,  and  significance,  as 
well  as  those  on  Spring,  trees,  flowers,  and  ''green 
things  growing." 

The  section  on  Conservation  is  of  especial 
timeliness. 


vH 


INTRODUCTION 

Although  Arbor  Day  is  one  of  the  newest  of  our 
American  holidays,  its  institution  is  merely  the  revival 
of  an  ancient  custom.  It  is  said  that  the  Aztecs  always 
planted  a  tree  when  an  infant  came  into  the  world, 
and  gave  it  the  child's  own  name.  And  the  old 
Mexican  Indians  plant  trees  on  certain  days  of 
the  year,  under  the  full  moon,  naming  them  after 
their  children. 

There  is  a  similar  custom  of  long  standing  in 
certain  parts  of  rural  Germany,  where  each  member 
of  each  family  plants  a  tree  with  appropriate  cere- 
monies at  Whitsuntide,  forty  days  after  Easter. 

Some  unknown  seeker  after  truth  once  discovered 
in  a  Swiss  chronicle  of  the  fifth  century  an  account 
of  an  early  and  curious  institution  of  Arbor  Day. 
It  seems  that  the  people  of  a  little  Swiss  town  called 
Brugg  assembled  in  council  and  resolved  to  plant  a 
forest  of  oak  trees  on  the  common.  The  first  rainy 
day  thereafter  the  citizens  began  their  work.  They 
dug  holes  in  the  ground  with  canes  and  sticks,  and 
dropped  an  acorn  into  each  hole,  tramping  the  dirt 
over  it.  More  than  twelve  sacks  were  sown  in 
this  way,  and  after  the  work  was  done  each  citizen 
received  a  wheaten  roll  as  a  reward. 

ix 


X  ARBOR  DAY 

For  some  reason  the  work  was  all  in  vain,  for 
the  seed  never  came  up.  Perhaps  the  acorns  were 
laid  too  deep,  or  it  might  have  been  that  the  tramp- 
ing of  so  many  feet  had  packed  the  earth  too  firmly. 
Whatever  the  cause,  the  acorns  refused  to  sprout, 
and  the  townspeople  sowed  the  same  ground  with 
rye  and  oats,  and  after  the  harvest  they  tried  the 
acorn  planting  again  —  this  time  in  anothlai^way  — 
by  plowing  the  soil  and  sowing  the  acorns  in  the 
furrows.  But  again  the  ''great  oaks"  refused  to 
grow;  grass  came  up  instead,  and  the  people  were 
disappointed.  But  an  oak  grove  they  were  deter- 
mined to  have,  so  after  this  second  failure  a  few  wise 
men  put  their  heads  together  and  decided  to  gain 
the  desired  result  by  tr*isplanting.  A  day  was 
appointed  in  October,  and  the  whole  community, 
men,  women,  and  children,  marched  to  the  woods, 
dug  up  oak  saplings,  and  transplanted  them  on  the 
common.  At  the  close  of  the  exercises  each  girl 
and  boy  was  presented  with  a  roll,  and  in  the  evening 
the  grown  people  had  a  merry  feast  in  the  town  hall. 

This  time  the  trees  grew.  The  people  of  Brugg 
were  pleased  and  satisfied,  and  instituted  the  day 
of  tree-planting  as  a  yearly  holiday. 

Every  year  as  the  day  came  around  the  children 
formed  in  line  and  marched  to  the  oak  grove, 
bringing  back  twigs  or  switches,  thus  proving  that  the 
oaks  were  thriving,  and  every  year  at  the  close  of 
the  parade  the  rolls  were  distributed  to  be  eaten  in 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

remembrance  of  the  day.  This  festival  still  exists 
and  is  known  as  '^The  Switch  Parade."  - 

"The  first  to  call  attention  in  this  country,  in  an 
impressive  way,  to  the  value  and  absolute  need  of 
trees," writes  Egleston,*  "was  that  eminent  scholar 
and  wise  observer,  Mr.  George  P.  Marsh,  for  many 
years  our  worthy  representative  at  the  courts  of 
Italy  and  Turkey.  His  residence  in  those  older 
countries  was  calculated  to  draw  his  attention  to 
the  subject  as  it  would  not  have  been  drawn  had  he 
always  lived  in  his  native  land. 

"In  Europe  Mr.  Marsh  found  the  governments  of 
Italy  and  Germany,  as  well  as  those  of  other  countries, 
making  active  endeavors  ^nd  at  great  expense  to 
rehabilitate  their  forests,  which  had  been  depleted 
centuries  before,  to  guard  them  from  depredation, 
and,  instead  of  leaving  them  to  be  consumed  at  the 
bidding  of  personal  greed  or  recklessness,  cherishing 
them  as  among  their  most  precious  possessions.  .  .  . 
He  found  schools,  of  a  grade  corresponding  to  our 
colleges,  established  for  the  special  purpose  of  train- 
ing men  for  the  successful  planting  and  cultivation 
of  forests.  He  found  the  growth  of  trees  in  masses 
and  their  maintenance  reduced  to  a  science,  and  the 
management  of  the  woodlands  constituting  one  of 
the  most  important  departments  of  state. 

"  Such  discoveries  were  well  calculated  to  fix  his 
attention  upon  the  very  different  condition  of  the 

*  "Arbor  Day:  Its  History  and  Observance,"  by  N.  H-  Egleston. 


xii  ARBOR  DAY 

forests  in  his  own  country,  and  to  convince  him  that 
the  reckless  destruction  of  them  then  going  on  here, 
if  not  checked,  would  bring  upon  this  land  the  same 
calamities  which  had  befallen  countries  of  the  Old 
World  in  past  centuries,  and  from  which  only  the 
most  enlightened  nations  of  Europe  are  now  recov- 
ering, through  the  arduous  efforts  of  many  decades, 
and  at  great  pecuniary  cost.  The  result  of  Mr. 
Marsh's  observations  was  the  publication  of  a 
volume  entitled  *The  Earth  and  Man,'  and  to  the 
admirable  chapter  on  *The  Woods,'  more  than  to 
any  other  source,  perhaps,  we  are  indebted  for 
the  awakening  of  attention  here  to  our  destructive 
treatment  of  the  forests  and  the  necessity  of  adopt- 
ing a  different  course  if  we  would  avert  most  serious 
consequences,  threatening,  possibly,  more  than 
anything  else  our  material  welfare." 

The  cause  of  our  American  trees  was  taken  up 
and  zealously  advocated  by  a  number  of  public- 
spirited  men,  prominent  among  whom  was  B.  G. 
Northrup  who,  in  the  pages  to  follow,  has  written 
so  eloquently  of  Arbor  Day's  spirit  and  significance. 

But  the  official  father  of  the  movement  was  J. 
Sterling  Morton,  afterward  Secretary  of  Agricul- 
ture during  President  Cleveland's  second  term. 
"In  1872,"  writes  Walsh,*  "he  was  a  member  of 
the  Nebraska  State  Board  of  Agriculture,  and  he 
offered  a  resolution  setting  apart  April  loth  of  that 

*  In  "  Curiosities  of  Popular  Customs." 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

year  as '  tree-planting  day. '  There  were  some  mem- 
bers of  the  board  who  contended  for  the  name 
*  Sylvan  Day,'  but  Mr.  Morton  talked  them  out  of 
this  title.  The  resolution  as  finally  adopted  recom- 
mended that  the  people  throughout  the  state  plant 
trees  on  the  day  named,  and  ofiFered,  in  the  name 
of  the  board,  a  prize  of  one  hundred  dollars  to  the 
agricultural  society  of  that  county  which  should 
plant  properly  the  largest  number  of  trees.  To  the 
person  planting  the  largest  number  of  trees  a  farm 
library  worth  twenty-five  dollars  was  offered.  The 
board  requested  the  newspapers  to  keep  this  reso- 
lution before  their  readers,  and  the  newspapers 
responded  so  generously  that  more  than  one  million 
trees  were  planted  throughout  Nebraska  on  the 
first  Arbor  Day. 

*'Next  year  the  day  was  observed  with  increased 
interest,  and  in  1874  the  governor  officially  pro- 
claimed the  second  Wednesday  of  April  as  Arbor 
Day  for  Nebraska.  The  day  was  named  thus 
by  proclamation  until  1885,  when  the  legislature 
designated  April  22d  as  Arbor  Day  and  a  holiday. 
Since  that  time  a  provision  has  been  inserted  in  the 
Constitution  of  Nebraska  declaring  that  *the  in- 
creased value  of  lands,  by  reason  of  live  fences,  fruit 
and  forest  trees  grown  and  cultivated  thereon,  shall 
not  be  taken  into  account  in  the  assessment  thereof.' 
In  addition  to  this,  Nebraska  has  enacted  many 
statutory   provisions   touching   upon   the   planting 


XIV  ARBOR  DAY 

of  trees.  One  directs  the  corporate  authorities  of 
cities  and  towns  to  cause  shade  trees  to  be  planted 
along  the  streets,  and  empowers  the  authorities 
to  make  additional  assessments  for  taxation  upon 
lands  benefited  by  such  planting.  Another  section 
of  the  law  provides  for  the  planting  of  trees 
not  more  than  twenty  feet  apart  upon  each  side 
of  one-fourth  of  the  streets  in  every  city  and 
village  of  Nebraska.  Most  persons  acquainted 
with  the  needs  of  really  valuable  shade  trees 
realize  that  such  trees  should  be  planted  a  good 
deal  farther  apart  than  the  distance  thus  indi- 
cated by  law. 

"One  result  of  all  this  legislation,  and  of  the  pre- 
miums offered  each  year  by  the  State  Board  of 
Agriculture,  has  been  the  astonishing  prosperity 
of  nurserymen  in  Nebraska.  In  the  first  sixteen 
years  after  Arbor  Day  was  instituted  there  were 
more  than  three  hundred  and  fifty  million  trees  and 
vines  planted  in  Nebraska,  and  the  observance  of 
the  day  is  still  kept  up  with  interest. 

"In  1876  Michigan  and  Minnesota  followed  suit, 
and  like  action  was  soon  taken  in  other  states.  In 
1887  the  Education  Department  of  Ontario  ordered 
that  the  first  Friday  in  May  should  be  set  apart  by 
the  trustees  of  every  rural  school  and  incorporated 
village  for  planting  shade  trees  and  making  flower- 
beds in  the  school  grounds. 

"New   York   did  not    fall   in   line   until    1888, 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

when,  on  April  30,  the  following  act  was  approved 

by  the  governor: 

Section  i.  The  Friday  following  the  first  day  of  May  in  each 
year  shall  hereafter  be  known  throughout  this  state  as  Arbor  Day. 
§2.  It  shall  be  the  duty  of  the  authorities  of  every  public  school 
in  this  State,  to  assemble  the  scholars  in  their  charge  on  that  day 
in  the  school  building,  or  elsewhere,  as  they  may  deem  proper, 
and  to  provide  for  and  conduct,  under  the  general  supervision  of 
the  city  superintendent  or  the  school  commissioner,  or  other  chief 
officers  having  the  general  oversight  of  the  public  schools  in  each 
city  or  district,  such  exercises  as  shall  tend  to  encourage  the  plant- 
ing, protection  and  preservation  of  trees  and  shrubs,  and  an 
acquaintance  with  the  best  methods  to  be  adopted  to  accomplish 
such  results. 

§3.  The  State  Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction  shall  have 
power  to  prescribe  from  time  to  time,  in  writing,  a  course  of 
exercises  and  instruction  in  the  subjects  hereinbefore  mentioned 
which  shall  be  adopted  and  observed  by  the  public  school  authori- 
ties on  Arbor  Day,  and  upon  receipt  of  copies  of  such  course, 
sufficient  in  number  to  supply  all  the  schools  under  their  super- 
vision, the  school  commissioner  or  city  superintendent  aforesaid, 
shall  promptly  provide  each  of  the  schools  under  his  or  their  charge 
with  a  copy,  and  cause  it  to  be  adopted  and  observed. 

"By  a  popular  vote  the  pupils  of  the  state  schools 
of  New  York  decided  that  the  white  elm  was  the 
tree  and  the  rose  the  flower  of  the  state.  They  are 
therefore  called  upon  to  do  all  in  their  power  to 
increase  the  number  of  both  by  planting  them  on 
Arbor  Day.  With  this  object  in  view,  Central  Park 
and  the  big  pleasure  grounds  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  city  are  thrown  open  to  them.  Small  parties 
of  tree  planters  start  from  most  of  the  uptown 
schools  in  the  afternoon,  and  go  to  some  nook  chosen 


x^l  ARBOR  DAY 

by  the  Park  Commissioners  to  add  their  tribute  to 
the  day.  Songs  are  sung  during  the  planting,  and 
the  teachers  tell  the  pupils  all  about  the  tree  they 
have  planted,  how  it  will  grow,  and  how  grateful 
its  shade  will  be  to  future  generations.  A  luncheon 
spread  in  the  open  concludes  the  ceremonies. 
/  "A  Spanish  holiday  {Fiesta  del  ArhoT)  devoted  to 
tree-planting  was  evidently  copied  from  our  Arbor 
Day.  It  is  celebrated  annually  on  March  26th. 
The  festival  was  instituted  in  1896.  The  young 
King  Alfonzo  with  the  queen  regent  and  the  ladies 
of  the  court  proceeded  to  some  grounds  lying  near 
the  village  of  Hortaleza,  about  two  miles  to  the  east 
of  Madrid.  There  he  planted  a  pine  sapling.  Two 
thousand  children  selected  from  the  Madrid  schools 
followed  his  example.  Gold  medals  commemora- 
tive of  the  event  were  distributed  among  them. 
The  inscription  runs  'First  F^te  of  the  Tree,  insti- 
tuted in  the  reign  of  Alfonzo  XIII.,  1896.'  The 
schoolboys  who  planted  the  saplings  are  taken 
periodically  by  their  schoolmasters  to  note  the 
progress  of  their  respective  trees,  and  are  encouraged 
to  foster  tree-planting  in  their  country." 

When  the  idea  of  the  new  holiday  was  fully 
grasped  there  arose  at  once  a  chorus  of  enthusiastic 
praise  of  the  day  and  its  founder  from  significant 
voices.^. 

"I  willingly  confess,"  wrote  James  Russell  Lowell, 
"to  so  great  a  partiality  for  trees  as  tempts  me  to 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

respect  a  man  in  exact  proportion  to  his  respect 
for  them."  Boyle  O'Reilly  spoke  of  the  day's 
celebration  as  "one  of  the  loveliest  practices  of  the 
country  and  century."  "Francis  Parkman,"  notes 
K.  G.  Wells,*  "congratulated  the  West  on  its  dis- 
covery." And  Edward  Everett  Hale,  with  the  pre- 
cision characteristic  of  him,  advised  the  *' State  to 
invest  a  considerable  sum  annually,  from  its  sinking 
fund,  in  forests." 

No  wonder  the  land  was  stirred  by  the  idea.    For 
the  observance  of  Arbor  Day  holds  quite  as  rich 
possibilities  of  spiritual  growth  as  of  merely  physical 
development, 
y^lt  is  a  symbol  of  progress.    It  is  the  only  one  of 

^our  American  holidays  which  turns  its  face  toward 
the  future  rather  than  toward  the  past. 

But  it  holds  for  the  youth  of  our  impetuous  and 
youthfully  spendthrift  land,  a  lesson  far  more 
needed  than  that  of  progress  —  the  lesson  of  econ- 
omy and  unselfish  foresight. 

^"^''^ur  young  cities  have  too  often  been  ruthlessly 
sacrificed  to  a  brutal,  hideous  materialism;  and  a 
large  number  of  our  city  children  have  never  known 
the  beauty  of  places  devoted  to  "green  things 
growing. "  To  many  of  them  Arbor  Day  means  the 
awakening  of  the  aesthetic  sense  and  its  celebration 
often  arouses  a  dormant  love  for  nature  which  may 
some  day  sweep  them  with  a  rush  out  of  the  crowded, 

*  In  "  Pieces  for  Every  Occasion."  j 


xviii  ARBOR  DAY 

unhealthy  metropolis  "back  to  the  soil,"  where 
they  are  needed. 

Then,  in  turn,  Arbor  Day,  by  arousing  the  "bare- 
foot boy"  to  a  sense  of  those  beautiful  miracles  of 
the  commonplace  amid  which  he  lives,  and  by 
keeping  him  in  touch  with  the  modern,  scientific 
side  of  rural  life,  is  a  potent  factor  in  keeping  him 
away  from  the  city  and  in  making  him  a  happier, 
more  intelligent,  and  more  effective  farmer. 

Many  more  of  the  blessed  influences  of  the 
delightful  holiday  are  fully  brought  out  in  the  pages 
that  follow. 

While  the  important  movement  for  the  conserva- 
tion of  our  national  resources,  inaugurated  by 
President  Roosevelt,  has  given  Arbor  Day  a  new 
national  significance,  it  has  emphasized  the  unfor- 
tunate character  of  its  name.  "If  the  name  of 
Arbor  Day,"  wrote  George  William  Curtis,  "may 
seem  to  be  a  little  misleading,  because  the  word 
*  arbor,'  which  meant  a  tree  to  the  Romans,  means 
a  bower  to  Americans,  yet  it  may  well  serve  until  a 
better  name  is  suggested." 

The  name  has  served  us,  it  is  true,  from  the  days 
when  we  first  awoke  to  a  dim  realization  of  our 
criminal  waste  of  trees  and  its  perils.  Almost 
four  decades  ago,  when  the  infant  holiday  was 
christened,  our  whole  idea  of  the  conservation  of 
natural  resources  was  to  plant  a  few  trees  once  a 
year.    But  that  idea  was  merely  a  first  vague  pre- 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

lude  to  our  present  conviction  that  we  must  con- 
serve all  of  our  natural  resources.  And  to-day  the 
tree  that  we  plant  on  Arbor  Day  is  —  to  our  larger 
consciousness  —  a  mere  symbol  of  the  larger  con- 
servation which  must  hand  down  to  our  children 
an  unimpoverished  America. 

If,  therefore,  the  young  trees  of  our  young  holiday 
are  only  expressive  and  highly  poetic  symbols  of  the 
new  wave  of  unselfish  foresight  in  which  America  is 
being  baptized,  would  it  not  be  more  fitting,  more 
significant  and  more  beautiful  if  we  should  re- 
christen  our  new  festival  with  the  name  —  Conser- 
vation Day? 

February^  i909«  ^*  ■"■•  ^* 


NOTE 

The  Editor  and  Publishers  wish  to  acknowledge  their 
indebtedness  to  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Company;  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons;  Doubleday,  Page  &  Company;  Bobbs, 
Merrill  &  Company;  Mr.  David  McKay;  The  Century 
Company;  Educational  Publishing  Company;  Duffield  & 
Company;  Mr.  Lloyd  Mifflin  and  others  who  have  very 
kindly  granted  permission  to  reprint  selections  from  works 
copyrighted  by  them. 


CONTENTS 


Arbor  Day  Letier    .    . 
Preface     

PAGE 

.     .       Theodore  Roosevelt       v 
vii 

Introduction     .... 

ix 

I 

HISTORY  AND  OBSERVANCE 

A  New  Holiday     ....     George  William  Curtis  3 

Arbor  Day Nicholas  J  arc  how  9 

Arbor  Day  in  Schools      ...     B.  G.  Northrup  12 

Arbor  Day's  Observance  .     .    .    .     A.  S.  Draper  17 

A  Hymn  for  Arbor  Day    .     .    Henry  Hanby  Hay  18 

Arbor  Day Anonymous  19 

He  Who  Plants  an  Oak  .  .  .  Washington  Irving  20 
The  Planting  of  the  Apple-Tree 

William  Cullen  Bryant  21 

Tree  Planting  .  .  .  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  24 
The  Celebration  of  Arbor  Day 

Moncure  D.  Conway  25 

Spring  Cleaning Samuel  Walter  Foss  26 

A  Unique  Celebration 28 

Arbor  Day  Song Mary  A.  Heermans  29 

Celebrating  Arbor  Day    .     .     .    Walter  E.  Ranger  30 

What  Do  You  See  ? 32 

An  Arbor  Day  Tree 35 

When  We  Plant  a  Tree    .    Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  36 

Plant  a  Tree Lucy  Larcom  36 

TOO. 


xxii  ARBOR   DAY 

II 

SPIRIT  AND  SIGNIFICANCE 

PAGE 

The  Heart  of  the  Tree    .    .    .    Henry  C.  Banner  41 

The  Spirit  of  Arbor  Day    .    .     .     Frank  A.  Hill  42 

Arbor  Day  Aspiration     ....      John  Ruskin  43 

The  Violets Amanda  B.  Harris  44 

The  Discipline  of  Gardening  .  John  William  Cole  44 

For  Posterity Alexander  Smith  45 

Arbor  Day Prof.  B.  P.  Mann  45 

Plant  Trees       J.   Wilson  46 

Waste  Places Gen.  Samuel  F.  Gary  46 

The  Commonest  Delight  .   Charles  Dudley  Warner  47 

Arbor  Day Thomas  B.  Stockwell  47 

Arbor  Day B.  G.  Northrup  51 

III 

PRACTICAL  SUGGESTIONS 

Planting  on  School  Grounds     .   Charles  H.  Peck  57 

Draper's  "Ten  Commandments  "on Tree  Planting  61 

Ten  Principles  of  Pruning  .    .    .  Julia  E.  Rogers  62 

How  TO  Plant  a  Tree Julia  E.  Rogers  63 

Kinds  of  Trees  to  Plant 65 

The  Best  Trees  AND  Vines  .    .    .  Dr.  W.J.Milne  65 

School  Environment 66 

The  School  Garden L.  C.  Corhett  67 

A  Plea Henry  van  Dyke  68 

Improvement  of   School  Grounds 

Prof.  L.  H.  Bailey  68 


CONTENTS  xxiii 

PAGE 

Hints  for  the  First  School  Garden 

Edith  G.  Alger  72 

Forest  Culture Horace  Greeley  74 

Criminal  Treatment  of  Trees    . 76 

Know  the  Trees Austin  C.  Apgar  79 

The  a  B  C  of  Landscape  Gardening 79 

Do  AND  Don't 80 

Suggestions  for  Arbor  Day  Observance 

Alfred  Stone  81 


IV 

THE  SEASON 

Pippa's  Song Robert  Browning  87 

Home  Thoughts  from  Abroad    .  Robert  Browning  87 

The  Wistful  Days     .     Robert  Underwood  Johnson  88 

Spring A  If  red  Tennyson  89 

God  of  the  Open  Air  (a  selection)  .  Henry  van  Dyke  90 

News  of  Spring      ....      Maurice  Maeterlinck  91 

Spring Richard  Hovey  93 

April John  Burroughs  99 

April Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  104 

The  Coming  of  Spring  .  Hans  Christian  Andersen  105 
"When  the  Green  Gits  Back  in  the  Trees" 

J.  W.  Riley  108 

The  First  of  April     ....     Mortimer  Collins  109 

Song:  A  May  Morning John  Milton  110 

Spring  Magic Charles  Dickens  1 10 

Why  Ye  Blossome  Cometh    .     .     .    Oliver  H erf ord  ill 

Spring Andrew  Lang  112 

The   Return   of   Spring 

.     .     ,     .     .     .       Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  113 


xxiv  ARBOR    DAY 

FACE 

The  Month  of  Apple  Blossoms 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  113 

An  Angler's  Wish      ....      Henry  van  Dyke  117 

April Lloyd  Mifflin  119 

Mrs.  June's  Prospectus     .    .    .     Susan  CooUdge  119 

Spring Donald  G.  Mitchell  12 1 

A  Touch  OF  Nature    .    .    ,  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich  122 

A  Spring  Relish John  Burroughs  123 

The  Gladness  of  Nature  .   William  Cullen  Bryant  126 

The  Return  of  Spring    ....    Bayard  Taylor  127 

A  Spring  Song 128 

Spring  in  the  South    ....      Henry  van  Dyke  129 

The  Spring James  Speed  130 

An  Invitation  to  the  Country 

William  Cullen  Bryant  131 

A  Violin  Mood R.  H.  Schauffler  132 

Spring Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  133 

April  Days Alfred  Tennyson  134 

Lines  Written  in  Early  Spring 

William    Wordsworth  135 


TREES 

The  Marshes  of  Glynn     .    .    .      Sidney  Lanier  139 

Talks  on  Trees    ....    Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  141 
Inscription  for  the  Entrance  to  a  Wood 

William  Cullen  Bryant  148 

The  Appeal  of  the  Trees  .  J.  Horace  McFarland  150 

A  Ballad  of  Trees  and  the  Master,  Sidney  Lanier  150 

WoODNOTES Ralph   Waldo  Emerson  151 

Pine  Needles William  H,  Hayne  155 


CONTENTS  XXV 

PAGE 

A  Temple Anna  Bagstad  155 

Trees Julia  E.  Rogers  156 

The  Real  Tree      .     .     .      Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  157 

A  Spray  of  Pine John  Burroughs  159 

0  Dreamy,  Gloomy,  Friendly  Trees 

Herbert  Trench  160 

The  Twig  That  Became  a  Tree 160 

The  Age  of  Trees 162 

The  Pine  Tree John  Ruskin  162 

The  Tree Jones  Very  163 

The  Glory  OF  the  Woods  .    Susan  Fenimore  Cooper  164 

The  American  Forests John  Muir  165 

Talking  IN  Their  Sleep  .    .    .    Edith  M.Thomas  177 

The  Forest Richard  Jefferies  178 

The  Voice  of  the  Pine    .    Richard  Watson  Gilder  182 

Forms  and  Expressions  of  Trees  .    Wilson  Flagg  184 

Song Thomas  Love  Peacock  l8g 

A  Frank  Avowal N.  P.  Willis  190 

1  Saw  in  Louisiana  a  Live  Oak  Growing 

Walt   Whitman  191 

The  Maple James  Russell  Lowell  192 

Under  the  Greenwood  Tree    William  Shakespeare  193 

The  Lesson  of  a  Tree    ....     Walt  Whitman  193 

The  Beauty  of  Trees Wilson  Flagg  194 

The  Snowing  of  the  Pines 

Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  195 

Men  AND  Trees Edith  M.Thomas  196 

The  Wayside  Inn 198 

Forest  Hymn  ....  William  Cullen  Bryant  199 
Harold  the  Dauntless   (a  selection) 

Sir  Walter  Scott  204 

The  Majesty  of  Trees    .    .    .    Washington  Irving  205 

A  Famous  Couplet       ....       Alexander  Pope  205 

A  Few  Old  Proverbs Anonymous  206 


xxvi  ARBOR   DAY 

PAGE 

Historic  Trees Alexander  Smith  206 

The  Oak James  Russell  Lowell  2o8 

A  True  Nobleman Washington  Irving  209 

The   Oak        John   Dryden  210 

The  Tree       B.  Bjornson  210 

The  Faun Richard  Hovey  211 

In  the  Hemlocks John  Burroughs  212 

English  Woods  and  American  .     John  Burroughs  214 

Nature       H.  D.  Thoreau  215 

The  Little  Leaf      .    .    .      Henry  Ward  Beecher  216 

The  Tree  That  Tried  to  Grow    .    Francis  Lee  218 

How  TO  Make  A  Whistle Anonymous  220 

The  Forest H.  D.  Thoreau  220 

Life's  Forest  Trees     .    .    Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox  221 

Wood Jt^Ua  E.  Rogers  222 

The  Holly-tree Robert  Southey  222 

A  Discourse  ON  Trees   .     .     .  Henry  Ward  Beecher  224 

Foreign  Lands     ....     Robert  Louis  Stevenson  235 

The  Popular  Poplar      .    Blanche  Willis  Howard  236 

The  Beech  Tree's  Petition    .    Thomas  Campbell  237 

Wood-song Josephine  Preston  Peabody  238 

The  Wind  in  the  Pines     .     .     .     Madison  Cawein  239 

To  a  Maple  Seed Lloyd  Mifflin  239 

Sunrise Sidney  Lanier  240 


VI 

FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES  OF  GRASS 

A  Happy  Thought    ....    Henry  Ward  Beecher  245 

Flowers John  Milton  245 

Plants  and  Flowers John  Ruskin  246 

Seeking  the  Mayflower    .    .    .    ,  E.C.  Stedman  247 


CONTENTS  xxvii 

PAGE 

The  Story  of  the  Hyacinth 249 

Children  and  Flowers       .      Amanda  B.  Harris  249 

The  Violet  Under  the  Snow     .     R.  C.  Schauffler  251 

The  Primroses W.  G.  Robertson  251 

A  Saying  of  Linnaeus John  Fiske  252 

Of  Gardens Francis  Bacon  253 

I  Know  a  Bank William  Shakespeare  254 

Leaves  of  Grass Walt  Whitman  254 

The  Story  of  Narcissus 257 

A  Wild  Strawberry     ....    Henry  van  Dyke  257 

Flowers Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  258 

Daffodils William  Wordsworth  261 

The  Water-lily John  B.  Tahh  262 

To  a  Mountain  Daisy Robert  Bums  262 

Old-fashioned  Flowers      .    .      M.  Maeterlinck  264 

Violets Lucy  Larcom  267 

Epigram       ........     R.  H.  Schauffler  268 

The  Daisy's  Song John  Keats  268 

The  Rhodora Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  269 

The  First  Dandelion     ....     Walt  Whitman  270 

Sweet  Peas John  Keats  270 

The  Story  of  the  Sunflower 271 

Flowers William  Shakespeare  272 

A  Pitcher  of  Mignonette     .     .     .    H.  C.  Bunner  272 

Wild  Flowers Richard  Jejferies  273 

To  THE  Dandelion    ....    James  Russell  Lowell  276 

The  Dandelions Helen  Gray  Cone  276 

To  A  Wind  Flower      ....    Madison  Cawein  277 

To  A  Withered  Rose     .     .     John  Kendrick  Bangs  278 

Marigolds John  Keats  278 

A  Hollyhock Frank  D.  Sherman  279 

With  a  Spray  of  Apple  Blossoms 

Walter  Learned  279 

Four-leaf  Clover       ....       Ella  Higginson  280 


xxviii  ARBOR   DAY 

PAGE 

The  Grass Emily  Dickinson    280 

Green  Things  Growing     .    Dinah  Maria  Mulock    281 


VII 

CONSERVATION 

Declaration  of  Principles 285 

Thoughts  on  Conservation     .    William  H.  Taft  289 

Thoughts  on  Conservation     .     William  J.  Bryan  290 

Thoughts  ON  Conservation    .    .     .   James  J.  Hill  291 

Thoughts  on  Conservation    .      James  S.  Whipple  292 

A  Few  Statistics     .     .     .     Treadwell  Cleveland^  Jr.  292 

Relations  of  Trees  to  Water    .     Wilson  Flagg  295 

The  Forest  Sponge 300 

Warnings  from  History 301 

"Woodman,  Spare  That  Tree"  (A  history)    .    .     .  313 

Woodman,  Spare  That  Tree    .     .  George  P.  Morris  314 

The  Restoration  of  the  Forests  .  George  P.  Marsh  316 

The  Uses  of  the  Forest  .  .  .  Gijford  Pinchot  316 
Four  Requirements  for  the  Best  Service 

Gifford  Pinchot  319 

What  Do  We  Plant  ?      .    .    .    .      Henry  Abbey  320 

Facts  About  Trees 321 

Forest  Preservation  and  Restoration 

James  S.   Whipple  322 

Spare  the  Trees Madame  Michelet  325 

VIII 

EXERCISES 

An  Arbor  Day  Exercise 331 

Trees 333 


CONTENTS  XXIX 

PAGE 

Arbor  Day  Alphabet    ....    Ada  S,  Sherwood  336 

Song 338 

Voices  of  the  Trees    .    .    .     Prof.  W.  H.  Benedict  339 

Scripture  Selections 343 

Songs  and  Chorus  of  the  Flowers    .    Leigh  Hunt  347 

New  York  State  Programme,  1889 352 


I 

HISTORY  AND  OBSERVANCE 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


A  NEW  HOLIDAY* 

BY   GEORGE    WILLIAM    CURTIS 

A  NEW  holiday  is  a  boon  to  Americans,  and  this 
year  the  month  of  May  gave  a  new  hoUday  to  the 
State  of  New  York.  It  has  been  already  observed 
elsewhere.-  It  began,  indeed,  in  Nebraska  seven- 
teen years  ago,  and  thirty-four  States  and  two 
territories  have  preceded  New  York  in  adopting  it. 
If  the  name  of  Arbor  Day  may  seem  to  be  a  little 
misleading,  because  the  word  "arbor,**  which 
meant  a  tree  to  the  Romans,  means  a  bower  to 
Americans,  yet  it  may  well  serve  until  a  better 
name  is  suggested,  and  its  significance  by  general 
understanding  will  soon  be  as  plain  as  Decoration 
Day. 

The  holiday  has  been  happily  associated,  in  this 
State  especially,  with  the  public  schools.  This  is 
most  fitting,  because  the  public  school  is  the  true 
and  universal  symbol  of  the  equal  rights  of  all 
citizens  before  the  law,  and  of  the  fact  that  educated 
intelligence  is  the  basis  of  good  popular  government. 
The  more  generous  the  cultivation  of  the  mind,  and 

*  From  "  The  Editor's  Study,"  Harper's  Magazine,  Copyright 
1889,  by  Harper  and  Brothers. 

3 


4  ARBOR  DAY 

the  wider  the  range  of  knowledge,  the  more 
secure  is  the  great  national  commonwealth.  The 
intimate  association  of  the  schools  with  tree- 
planting  is  fortunate  in  attracting  boys  and  girls 
to  a  love  and  knowledge  of  nature,  and  to  a 
respect  for  trees  because  of  their  value  to  the 
whole  community. 

The  scheme  for  the  inauguration  of  the  holiday 
in  New  York  was  issued  by  the  Superintendent  of 
Public  Instruction.  It  provided  for  simple  and 
proper  exercises,  the  recitation  of  brief  passages 
from  English  literature  relating  to  trees,  songs  about 
trees  sung  by  the  children,  addresses,  and  planting 
of  trees,  to  be  named  for  distinguished  persons  of 
every  kind. 

The  texts  for  such  addresses  are  indeed  as  numer- 
ous as  the  trees,  and  there  may  be  an  endless  improve- 
ment of  the  occasion,  to  the  pleasure  and  the  profit 
of  the  scholars.  They  may  be  reminded  that  our 
knowledge  of  trees  begins  at  a  very  early  age,  even 
their  own,  and  that  it  usually  begins  with  a  close  and 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  birch. 

This,  indeed,  might  be  called  the  earliest  service 
of  the  trees  to  the  child,  if  we  did  not  recall  the  cradle 
and  the  crib.  The  child  rocking  in  the  cradle  is 
the  baby  rocking  in  the  tree-top,  and  as  the  child 
hears  the  nurse  droning  her  drowsy  *'rock-a-bye 
baby,"  it  may  imagine  that  it  hears  the  wind  sighing 
through  the  branches  of  the  tree.    To  identify  the 


A  NEW  HOLIDAY  5 

tree  with  human  life  and  to  give  the  pupil  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  it  will  make  the  public  schools 
nurseries  of  sound  opinion  which  will  prevent  the 
ruthless  destruction  of  the  forests. 

The  service  of  the  trees  to  us  begins  with  the 
cradle  and  ends  with  the  coffin.  But  it  continues 
through  our  lives,  and  is  of  almost  unimaginable 
extent  and  variety.  In  this  country  our  houses  and 
their  furniture  and  the  fences  that  inclose  them 
are  largely  the  product  of  the  trees.  The  fuel  that 
warms  them,  even  if  it  be  coal,  is  the  mineralized 
wood  of  past  ages.  The  frames  and  handles  of 
agricultural  implements,  wharves,  boats,  ships, 
india-rubber,  gums,  bark,  cork,  carriages  and 
railroad  cars  and  ties  —  wherever  the  eye  falls  it 
sees  the  beneficent  service  of  the  trees.  Arbor  Day 
recalls  this  direct  service  on  every  hand,  and  reminds 
us  of  the  indirect  ministry  of  trees  as  guardians  of 
the  sources  of  rivers  —  the  great  forests  making 
the  densely  shaded  hills,  covered  with  the  accumu- 
lating leaves  of  ages,  huge  sponges  from  which 
trickle  the  supplies  of  streams.  To  cut  the  forests 
recklessly  is  to  dry  up  the  rivers.  It  is  a  crime 
against  the  whole  community,  and  scholars  and 
statesmen  both  declare  that  the  proper  preservation 
of  the  forests  is  the  paramount  public  question. 
Even  in  a  mercantile  sense  it  is  a  prodigious  question, 
for  the  estimated  value  of  our  forest  products  in 
1880  was  $800,000,000,  a  value  nearly  double  that 


6  ARBOR  DAY 

of  the  wheat  crop,  ten  times  that  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  forty  times  that  of  our  iron  ore. 

It  was  high  time  that  we  considered  the  trees. 
They  are  among  our  chief  benefactors,  but  they  are 
much  better  friends  to  us  than  ever  we  have  been  to 
them.  If,  as  the  noble  horse  passes  us,  tortured 
with  the  overdraw  check  and  the  close  blinders  and 
nagged  with  the  goad,  it  is  impossible  not  to  pity 
him  that  he  has  been  delivered  into  the  hands  of  men 
to  be  cared  for,  not  less  is  the  tree  to  be  pitied.  It 
seems  as  if  we  had  never  forgotten  or  forgiven  that 
early  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  birch, 
and  have  been  revenging  ourselves  ever  since.  We 
have  waged  against  trees,  a  war  of  extermination 
like  that  of  the  Old  Testament  Christians  of  Massa- 
chusetts Bay  against  the  Pequot  Indians.  We  have 
treated  the  forests  as  if  they  were  noxious  savages 
or  vermin.  It  was  necessary,  of  course,  that  the 
continent  should  be  suitably  cleared  for  settlement 
and  agriculture.  But  there  was  no  need  of  shaving 
it  as  with  a  razor.  If  Arbor  Day  teaches  the  growing 
generation  of  children  that  in  clearing  a  field  some 
trees  should  be  left  for  shade  and  for  beauty,  it  will 
have  rendered  good  service.  In  regions  rich  with 
the  sugar-maple  tree  the  young  maples  are  safe 
from  the  general  massacre  because  their  sap,  turned 
into  sugar,  is  a  marketable  commodity.  But  every 
tree  yields  some  kind  of  sugar,  if  it  be  only  a  shade 
for  a  cow. 


A  NEW  HOLIDAY  7 

Let  us  hope  also  that  Arbor  Day  will  teach  the 
children,  under  the  wise  guidance  of  experts,  that 
trees  are  to  be  planted  with  intelligence  and  care, 
if  they  are  to  become  more  vigorous  and  beautiful. 
A  sapling  is  not  to  be  cut  into  a  bean-pole,  but 
carefully  trimmed  in  accordance  with  its  form.  A 
tree  which  has  lost  its  head  will  never  recover  again, 
and  will  survive  only  as  a  monument  of  the  ignorance 
and  folly  of  its  tormentor.  Indeed,  one  of  the  hap- 
piest results  of  the  new  holiday  will  be  the  increase 
of  knowledge  which  springs  from  personal  interest 
in  trees. 

This  will  be  greatly  promoted  by  naming  those 
which  are  planted  on  Arbor  Day.  The  interest  of 
children  in  pet  animals,  in  dogs,  squirrels,  rabbits, 
cats,  and  ponies,  springs  largely  from  their  life  and 
their  dependence  upon  human  care.  When  the 
young  tree  also  is  regarded  as  living  and  equally 
dependent  upon  intelligent  attention,  when  it  is 
named  by  votes  of  the  scholars,  and  planted  by  them 
with  music  and  pretty  ceremony,  it  will  also  become  a 
pet,  and  a  human  relation  will  be  established.  If 
it  be  named  for  a  living  man  or  woman,  it  is  a  living 
memorial  and  a  perpetual  admonition  to  him  whose 
name  it  bears  not  to  suffer  his  namesake  tree  to 
outstrip  him,  and  to  remember  that  a  man,  like  a 
tree,  is  known  by  his  fruits. 

Trees  will  acquire  a  new  charm  for  intelligent 
children  when  they  associate  them  with  famous 


8  ARBOR  DAY 

persons.  Watching  to  see  how  Bryant  and  Long- 
fellow are  growing,  whether  Abraham  Lincoln  wants 
water,  or  George  Washington  promises  to  flower 
early,  or  Benjamin  Franklin  is  drying  up,  whether 
Robert  Fulton  is  budding,  or  General  Grant  begin- 
ning to  sprout,  the  pupil  will  find  that  a  tree  may  be 
as  interesting  as  the  squirrel  that  skims  along  its 
trunk,  or  the  bird  that  calls  from  its  top  like  a 
muezzin  from  a  minaret. 

The  future  orators  of  Arbor  Day  will  draw  the 
morals  that  lie  in  the  resemblance  of  all  life.  It  is 
by  care  and  diligent  cultivation  that  the  wild  crab 
is  subdued  to  bear  sweet  fruit,  and  by  skilful  grafting 
and  budding  that  the  same  stock  produces  different 
varieties.  And  so  you.  Master  Leonard  or  Miss 
Alice,  if  you  are  cross  and  spiteful  and  selfish  and 
bullying,  you  also  must  be  budded  and  trained. 
Just  as  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree's  inclined,  young 
gentlemen,  and  you  must  start  straight  if  you  would 
not  grow  up  crooked.  Just  as  the  boy  begins,  the 
man  turns  out. 

So,  trained  by  Arbor  Day,  as  the  children  cease 
to  be  children  they  will  feel  the  spiritual  and  refining 
influence,  the  symbolical  beauty,  of  the  trees.  Like 
men,  they  begin  tenderly  and  grow  larger  and  larger, 
in  greater  strength,  more  deeply  rooted,  more 
widely  spreading,  stretching  leafy  boughs  for  birds 
to  build  in,  shading  the  cattle  that  chew  the  cud 
and  graze  in  peace,  decking  themselves  in  blossoms 


ARBOR  DAY  9 

and  ever-changing  foliage,  and  murmuring  with 
rusding  music  by  day  and  night.  The  thoughtful 
youth  will  see  a  noble  image  of  the  strong  man 
struggling  with  obstacles  that  he  overcomes  in  a 
great  tree  wrestling  mightily  with  the  wintry  gales, 
and  extorting  a  glorious  music  from  the  storms  which 
it  triumphantly  defies. 

Arbor  Day  will  make  the  country  visibly  more 
beautiful  every  year.  Every  little  community, 
every  school  district,  will  contribute  to  the  good  work. 
The  school-house  will  gradually  become  an  orna- 
ment, as  it  is  already  the  great  benefit  of  the  village, 
and  the  children  will  be  put  in  the  way  of  living 
upon  more  friendly  and  intelligent  terms  with  the 
bountiful  nature  which  is  so  friendly  to  us. 


ARBOR  DAY* 

BY  NICHOLAS  JARCHOW,  LL.D. 

It  is  not  long  since  some  of  our  treeless  Western 
States,  desiring  to  promote  the  culture  of  trees, 
appointed  a  day  early  in  spring  for  popular  tree 
planting.  But  up  to  1883  no  state  had  advanced 
this  movement  by  the  institution  of  an  Arbor  Day 
to  be  celebrated  and  observed  in  schools.  Ohio 
was  the  first  state  to  move  in  this  matter  and  to 
interest    the    schools    in    this    work.     Cincinnati's 


*  Reprinted  from  the  Independent. 


lo  ARBOR   DAY 

Arbor  Day  in  the  schools  in  the  spring  of  1883  will 
be  remembered  by  all  who  took  a  part  in  the  talks 
and  lessons  on  trees  during  the  morning  hours,  and 
in  the  practical  work  during  the  afternoon.  The 
other  states  of  the  East,  which  have  all  suffered 
more  or  less  by  the  wanton  destruction  of  their 
primeval  forests,  soon  followed  in  the  wake  of  the 
Buckeye  State,  and  our  own  Empire  State  celebrated 
for  the  first  time  in  the  spring  of  1889  the  Arbor 
Day  in  the  public  schools. 

Many  considered  this  scheme  impracticable  for 
large  cities  where  trees  are  a  rare  sight  and  where 
no  opportunity  is  given  for  practical  planting. 
But  the  logic  of  events  has  now  removed  any  doubts 
and  secured  a  general  appreciation  of  this  subject. 
To  every  patriotic  American  this  is  most  satisfac- 
tory, as  in  the  public  schools  should  be  introduced 
what  ever  shall  appear  in  the  nation's  life.  The 
foundation  of  the  great  deeds  the  Germans  have 
achieved  in  every  discipline  of  art,  science,  industries, 
and  even  in  warfare,  is  due  to  the  "schoolmaster." 
And  if  we  train  the  youth  into  a  love  for  trees,  the 
next  generation  will  see  realized  what  we  scarcely 
hope  to  initiate,  the  preservation  of  forests  not  only 
for  climatic  and  meteorological  purposes,  but  also 
for  their  value  in  the  economy  of  the  nation. 

Children  may  not  be  able  to  understand  the  im- 
portance of  trees  in  their  aggregation  as  forests; 
however,  they  will,  if  allowed  to  assemble  in  a  grove 


ARBOR  DAY  ii 

or  park,  be  inspired  with  the  idea  that  trees  are 
one  of  the  grandest  products  of  God  when  they  hear 
that  without  them  the  earth  could  never  have  pro- 
duced the  necessaries  of  life,  and  that  with  their 
destruction  we  could  not  keep  up  the  sustained 
growth  of  the  plants  that  feed  man  and  animals. 
There  is  no  more  suitable  subject  for  practical  oral 
lessons,  now  common  in  most  of  our  schools,  than 
the  nature  of  plants,  and  especially  that  of  trees  and 
the  value  of  tree-planting.  Such  lessons  occupy 
only  a  little  time,  taking  the  place  of  a  part  of  the 
"Reader."  They  tend  to  form  the  habits  of 
accurate  observation  of  common  things  which  are 
of  vast  importance  in  practical  life.  These  lessons 
will  lead  our  youth  to  admire  and  cherish  trees, 
thus  rendering  a  substantial  service  to  the  State  as 
well  as  to  the  pupils  by  making  them  practical 
arborists. 

Wherever  the  opportunity  is  given,  children  should 
be  encouraged  to  plant  or  help  in  planting  a  tree, 
shrub  or  flower,  actually  practising  what  they  have 
learned  in  the  study  of  the  growth  and  habits  of 
plants.  They  will  watch  with  pride  the  slow  but 
steady  development  of  a  young  tree,  and  find  a 
peculiar  pleasure  in  its  parentage.  Such  work  has 
not  only  an  educational  effect  upon  the  juvenile 
mind,  but  its  aesthetic  influence  cannot  be  over- 
estimated. Tree  planting  is  a  good  school  for  dis- 
cipline in  foresight,  the  regard  for  the  future  being 


12  ARBOR  DAY 

the  leading  element  in  this  work.  Young  people 
are  mostly  inclined  to  sow  only  where  they  can  soon 
reap;  they  prefer  the  small  crop  in  hand  to  a  great 
harvest  long  in  maturing.  But  when  they  are  led 
to  obtain  a  taste  for  trees,  the  grandeur  of  thought 
connected  with  this  important  line  of  husbandry 
will  convince  them  that  a  speedy  reward  is  not  always 
the  most  desirable  motive  in  the  pursuits  of  our  life, 
and  is  not  worthy  of  aspiring  men.  For  patiently  to 
work  year  after  year  for  the  attainment  of  a  far-off 
end  shows  a  touch  of  the  sublime,  and  implies  moral 
no  less  than  mental  heroism. 


ARBOR  DAY  IN  SCHOOLS.* 

BY  B.  G.  NORTHRUP 

J.  Sterling  Morton,  once  Secretary  of  the  United 
States  Department  of  Agriculture,  originated  Arbor 
Day  in  Nebraska  in  1872.  His  able  advocacy  of 
this  measure  was  a  marvelous  success  the  first  year, 
and  still  more  each  succeeding  year.  So  remark- 
able have  been  the  results  of  Arbor  Day  in  Nebraska 
that  its  originator  is  gratefully  recognized  as  the 
great  benefactor  of  his  state.  Proofs  of  public  appre- 
ciation of  his  grand  work  I  found  wherever  I  have 
been  in  that  state.  It  glories  in  the  old  misnomer 
of  the  geographies,  "The  Great  American  Desert," 

♦  Reprinted  from  the  Independent. 


ARBOR  DAY  IN  SCHOOLS  13 

since  it  has  become  so  habitable  and  hospitable  by 
cultivation  and  tree-planting.  Where,  twenty  years 
ago,  the  books  said  trees  would  not  grow,  the  settler 
who  does  not  plant  them  is  the  exception.  The 
Nebraskans  are  justly  proud  of  his  great  achieve- 
ment and  are  determined  to  maintain  its  pre- 
eminence. 

Arbor  Day  for  economic  tree-planting  and  Arbor 
Day  in  schools  differ  in  origin  and  scope.  Both  have 
been  erroneously  attributed  to  me,  though  long  ago 
I  advocated  tree-planting  by  youth,  and  started  the 
scheme  of  centennial  tree-planting,  offering  a  dollar 
prize,  in  1876,  to  every  boy  or  girl  who  should  plant, 
or  help  in  plantingy  five  "centennial  trees";  still  the 
happy  idea  of  designating  a  given  day  when  all 
should  be  invited  to  unite  in  this  work  belongs 
solely  to  ex- Governor  Morton.  His  great  problem 
was  to  meet  the  urgent  needs  of  vast  treeless  prairies. 
At  the  meeting  of  the  American  Forestry  Association, 
held  at  St.  Paul  in  1883,  my  resolution  in  favor  of 
observing  Arbor  Day  in  schools  in  all  our  states  was 
adopted,  and  a  committee  was  appointed  to  push 
that  work.  Continued  as  their  chairman  from  that 
day  to  this,  I  have  presented  the  claims  of  Arbor 
Day  personally,  or  by  letter,  to  the  governor,  or 
state  school  superintendent  in  all  our  states  and 
territories. 

My  first  efforts  were  not  encouraging.  The 
indifference  of  state  officials  who,  at  the  outset, 


14  ARBOR  DAY 

deemed  Arbor  Day  an  obtrusive  innovation,  was 
expected  and  occasioned  no  discouragement.  My 
last  word  with  more  than  one  governor  was:  "This 
thing  is  sure  to  go.  My  only  question  is,  shall  it 
be  under  your  administration  or  that  of  your  suc- 
cessor?" Many  state  officials  who  at  first  were 
apathetic,  on  fuller  information  have  worked 
heartily  for  the  success  of  Arbor  Day.  The  logic 
of  events  has  answered  objections.  Wherever  it 
has  been  fairly  tried  it  has  stood  the  test  of  experi- 
ence. Now  such  a  day  is  observed  in  forty  states 
and  territories,  in  accordance  with  legislative  acts 
or  recommendation  of  state  agricultural  and  hor- 
ticultural societies,  of  the  state  grange,  or  by  special 
proclamation  of  the  governor  or  recommendation 
of  the  state  school  superintendents,  and  in  some 
states  by  all  these  combined.  It  has  already  become 
the  most  interesting,  widely  observed  and  useful  of 
school  holidays.  It  should  not  be  a  legal  holiday, 
though  that  may  be  a  wise  provision  for  the  once 
treeless  prairies  of  Nebraska. 

Popular  interest  in  this  work  has  been  stimulated 
by  the  annual  proclamations  of  governors  and 
the  full  and  admirable  circulars  to  state  and 
county  school  superintendents  sent  to  every  school 
in  the  State. 

Arbor  Day  has  fostered  love  of  country.  It  has 
become  a  patriotic  observance  in  those  Southern 
States  which  have  fixed  its  date  on  Washington's 


ARBOR  DAY  IN  SCHOOLS  15 

Birthday.  Lecturing  in  all  these  states,  I  have 
been  delighted  to  find  as  true  loyalty  to  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  in  them  as  in  the  North.  This  custom 
of  planting  memorial  trees  in  honor  of  Washington, 
Lincoln,  and  other  patriots,  and  also  of  celebrated 
authors  and  philanthropists,  has  become  general. 
Now  that  the  national  flag  with  its  forty-five  stars 
floats  over  all  the  school-houses  in  so  many  states, 
patriotism  is  efifectively  combined  with  the  Arbor 
Day  addresses,  recitations  and  songs.  Among  the 
latter  "The  Star  Spangled  Banner"  and  "America" 
usually  find  a  place.  Who  can  estimate  the  edu- 
cating influence  exerted  upon  the  millions  of  youth 
who  have  participated  in  these  exercises?  This 
good  work  has  been  greatly  facilitated  by  the 
eminent  authors  of  America  who  have  written  so 
many  choice  selections  in  prose  and  poetry  on 
the  value  and  beauty  of  trees,  expressly  for  use 
on  Arbor  Day.  What  growth  of  mind  and  heart 
has  come  to  myriads  of  youth  who  have  learned 
these  rich  gems  of  our  literature  and  applied  them 
by  planting  and  caring  for  trees,  and  by  combin- 
ing sentiments  of  patriotism  with  the  study  of 
trees,  vines,  shrubs,  and  flowers,  and  thus  with 
the  love  of  Nature  in  all  her  endless  forms  and 
marvelous  beauty! 

An  eminent  educator  says:  "Any  teacher  who 
has  no  taste  for  trees,  shrubs  or  flowers  is  unfit  to  be 
placed  in  charge  of  children."     Arbor   Day  has 


i6  ARBOR  DAY 

enforced  the  same  idea,  especially  in  those  states  in 
which  the  pupils  have  cast  their  ballots  on  Arbor 
Day  in  favor  of  a  state  tree  and  state  flower.  Hab- 
its of  observation  have  thus  been  formed  which 
have  led  youth  in  their  walks,  at  work  or  play,  to 
recognize  and  admire  our  noble  trees,  and  to  realize 
that  they  are  the  grandest  products  of  Nature  and 
form  the  finest  drapery  that  adorns  the  earth  in  all 
lands.  How  many  of  these  children  in  maturer 
years  will  learn  from  happy  experience  that  there 
is  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  the  parentage  of  trees, 
forest,  fruit  or  ornamental  —  a  pleasure  that  never 
cloys  but  grows  with  their  growth. 

Arbor  Day  has  proved  as  memorable  for  the  home 
as  the  school,  leading  youth  to  share  in  dooryard 
adornments.  Much  as  has  been  done  on  limited 
school  grounds,  far  greater  improvements  have  been 
made  on  the  homesteads  and  the  roadsides.  The 
home  is  the  objective  point  in  the  hundreds  of  village 
improvement  societies  recently  organized.  The 
United  States  Census  of  1890  shows  that  there  has 
recently  been  a  remarkable  increase  of  interest  in 
horticulture,  arboriculture,  and  floriculture.  The 
reports  collected  from  4,510  nurserymen  give  a 
grand  total  of  3,386,855,778  trees,  vines,  shrubs, 
roses,  and  plants  as  then  growing  on  their  grounds. 
Arbor  Day  and  village  improvement  societies  are 
not  the  least  among  the  many  happy  influences 
that  have  contributed  to  this  grand  result. 


ARBOR  DAY'S  OBSERVANCE    17 


ARBOR  DAY'S  OBSERVANCE 

BY  A.  S.  DRAPER 

The  primary  purpose  of  the  legislature  in  estab- 
lishing *' Arbor  Day,"  was  to  develop  and  stimulate 
in  the  children  of  the  Commonwealth  a  love  and 
reverence  for  Nature  as  revealed  in  trees  and  shrubs 
and  flowers.  In  the  language  of  the  statute,  *'to 
encourage  the  planting,  protection  and  preservation 
of  trees  and  shrubs"  was  believed  to  be  the  most 
effectual  way  in  which  to  lead  our  children  to  love 
Nature  and  reverence  Nature's  God,  and  to  see  the 
uses  to  which  these  natural  objects  may  be  put 
in  making  our  school  grounds  more  healthful  and 
attractive. 

The  object  sought  may  well  command  the  most 
thoughtful  consideration  and  the  painstaking  efforts 
of  school  officers,  teachers,  and  pupils  in  every 
school  district,  and  in  every  educational  institution 
and  of  all  others  who  are  interested  in  beautifying 
the  schools  and  the  homes  of  the  state. 

It  will  be  well  not  only  to  plant  trees  and  shrubs 
and  vines  and  flowers  where  they  may  contribute 
to  pleasure  and  comfort,  but  also  to  provide  for  their 
perpetual  care,  and  to  supplement  such  work  by 
exercises  which  will  lead  all  to  a  contemplation  of  the 
subject  in  its  varied  relations  and  resultant  influences. 
It  is  fitting  that  trees  should  be  dedicated  to  eminent 


i8  ARBOR  DAY 

scholars,  educators,  statesmen,  soldiers,  historians 
or  poets,  or  to  favorite  teachers  or  pupils  in  the 
different  localities. 

The  opportunity  should  not  be  lost,  which  is 
afforded  by  the  occasion,  for  illustrating  and  enforc- 
ing the  thought  that  the  universe,  its  creation,  its 
arrangement  and  all  of  its  developing  processes 
are  not  due  to  human  planning  or  oversight,  but 
to  the  infinite  wisdom  and  power  of  God. 

Our  school  exercises,  and  particularly  those  of  an 
unusual  character,  should  be  interspersed  with  selec- 
tions, songs,  and  acts  which  will  inspire  patriotism. 


A  HYMN  FOR  ARBOR  DAY 

BY  HENRY  HANBY  HAY 

{To  be  sung  by  schools  to  the  time  oj  '^America^^) 
God  save  this  tree  we  plant! 
And  to  all  nature  grant 

Sunshine  and  rain. 
Let  not  its  branches  fade, 
Save  it  from  axe  and  spade. 
Save  it  for  joyful  shade  — 

Guarding  the  plain. 

When  it  is  ripe  to  fall, 
Neighbored  by  trees  as  tall, 
Shape  it  for  good. 


ARBOR  DAY  19 

Shape  it  to  bench  and  stool, 
Shape  it  to  square  and  rule, 
Shape  it  for  home  and  school, 
God  bless  the  wood. 

Lord  of  the  earth  and  sea, 
Prosper  our  planted  tree. 

Save  with  Thy  might. 
Save  us  from  indolence, 
Waste  and  improvidence. 
And  in  Thy  excellence. 

Lead  us  aright. 


ARBOR  DAY 

ANONYMOUS 

Our  modern  institution  —  Arbor  Day  —  is  a  pub- 
lic acknowledgement  of  our  dependence  upon  the 
soil  of  the  earth  for  our  daily,  our  annual,  bread. 
In  recognition  of  the  same  fact  the  Emperor  of 
China  annually  plows  a  furrow  with  his  own  hand, 
and  in  the  same  significance  are  the  provisions  in 
the  ancient  law  of  Moses,  to  give  the  land  its  seven- 
year  Sabbath,  as  well  as  to  man  his  seventh  day  for 
rest  and  recreation.  Our  observance  is  a  better  one, 
because  it  calls  on  all,  and  especially  on  the  impres- 
sible learners  in  the  schools  to  join  in  the  duty 
which  we  owe  to  the  earth  and  to  all   mankind, 


20  ARBOR  DAY 

of  doing  what  each  of  us  can  to  preserve  the  soil's 
ferti'"ty,  ar-^  to  prevent,  as  long  as  possible,  the 
earth,  f n  .n  which  we  have  our  being,  from  becom- 
ing worn  out  and  wholly  bald  and  bare.  And  we 
do  this  by  planting  of  any  sort,  if  only  by  making 
two  blades  of  grass  grow  where  but  one  grew  before, 
and  by  learning  to  preserve  vegetation.  We  give 
solemnity  to  this  observance  by  joining  in  it  on  an 
appointed  day,  high  and  low,  old  and  young,  together. 


HE  WHO  PLANTS  AN  OAK 

BY  WASHINGTON  IRVING 

He  who  plants  an  oak  looks  forward  to  future  ages, 
and  plants  for  posterity.  Nothing  can  be  less  selfish 
than  this.  He  cannot  expect  to  sit  in  its  shade  nor 
enjoy  its  shelter;  but  he  exults  in  the  idea  that  the 
acorn  which  he  has  buried  in  the  earth  shall  grow 
up  into  a  lofty  pile,  and  shall  keep  on  flourishing 
and  increasing,  and  benefiting  mankind  long  after 
he  shall  have  ceased  to  tread  his  paternal  fields. 
The  oak,  in  the  pride  and  lustihood  of  its  growth, 
seems  to  me  to  take  its  range  with  the  lion  and  the 
eagle,  and  to  assimilate,  in  the  grandeur  of  its 
attributes,  to  heroic  and  intellectual  man. 

With  its  mighty  pillar  rising  straight  and  direct 
toward  heaven,  bearing  up  its  leafy  honors  from 
the  impurities  of  earth,  and  supporting  them  aloft 


PLANTING  OF  THE  APPLE-TREE     21 

in  free  air  and  glorious  sunshine,  it  is  an  emblem  of 
what  a  true  nobleman  should  be;  a  refuge  for  the 
weak  —  a  shelter  for  thei  oppressed  —  a  defense 
for  the  defenseless;  warding  off  from  them  the 
peltings  of  the  storm,  or  the  scorching  rays  of  arbi- 
trary power. 


THE  PLANTING  OF  THE  APPLE-TREE 

BY  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

Come,  let  us  plant  the  apple-tree! 
Cleave  the  tough  greensward  with  the  spade; 
Wide  let  its  hollow  bed  be  made; 
There  gently  lay  the  roots,  and  there 
Sift  the  dark  mold  with  kindly  care, 

And  press  it  o'er  them  tenderly, 
As  round  the  sleeping  infant's  feet 
We  softly  fold  the  cradle-sheet; 

So  plant  we  the  apple-tree. 

What  plant  we  in  this  apple-tree? 
Buds  which  the  breath  of  summer  days 
Shall  lengthen  into  leafy  sprays; 
Boughs  where  the  thrush,  with  crimson  breast, 
Shall  haunt,  and  sing,  and  hide  her  nest; 

We  plant  upon  the  sunny  lea 
A  shadow  for  the  noontide  hour, 
A  shelter  from  the  summer  shower, 

When  we  plant  the  apple-tree. 


22  ARBOR  DAY 

What  plant  we  in  this  apple-tree  ? 
Sweets  for  a  hundred  flowery  springs 
To  load  the  May-wind's  restless  wings, 
When  from  the  orchard-row  he  pours 
Its  fragrance  through  our  open  doors; 

A  world  of  blossoms  for  the  bee, 
Flowers  for  the  sick  girl's  silent  room, 
For  the  glad  infant  sprigs  of  bloom, 

We  plant  with  the  apple-tree. 

What  plant  we  in  this  apple-tree? 
Fruits  that  shall  swell  in  sunny  June, 
And  redden  in  the  August  noon, 
And  drop  when  gentle  airs  come  by. 
That  fan  the  blue  September  sky; 

While  children,  wild  with  noisy  glee, 
Shall  scent  their  fragrance  as  they  pass 
And  search  for  them  the  tufted  grass 

At  the  foot  of  the  apple-tree. 

And  when  above  this  apple  tree 
The  winter  stars  are  quivering  bright. 
And  winds  go  howling  through  the  night, 
Girls,  whose  young  eyes  o'erflow  with  mirth. 
Shall  peel  its  fruit  by  the  cottage  hearth; 

And  guests  in  prouder  homes  shall  see, 
Heaped  with  the  orange  and  the  grape. 
As  fair  as  they  in  tint  and  shape. 

The  fruit  of  the  apple-tree. 


PLANTING    OF  THE  APPLE-TREE    23 

The  fruitage  of  this  apple-tree, 
Winds,  and  our  flag  of  stripe  and  star, 
Shall  bear  to  coasts  that  lie  afar, 
Where  men  shall  wonder  at  the  view, 
And  ask  in  what  fair  groves  they  grew: 

And  they  who  roam  beyond  the  sea 
Shall  think  of  childhood's  careless  day, 
And  long  hours  passed  in  summer  play 

In  the  shade  of  the  apple-tree. 

Each  year  shall  give  this  apple-tree 
A  broader  flush  of  roseate  bloom, 
A  deeper  maze  of  verdurous  gloom, 
And  loosen,  when  the  frost-clouds  lower. 
The  crisp  brown  leaves  in  thicker  shower. 

The  years  shall  come  and  pass;  but  we 
Shall  hear  no  longer,  where  we  lie, 
The  summer's  songs,  the  autumn's  sigh, 

In  the  boughs  of  the  apple-tree. 

But  time  shall  waste  this  apple-tree. 
Oh,  when  its  aged  branches  throw 
Thin  shadows  on  the  ground  below, 
Shall  fraud  and  force  and  iron  will 
Oppress  the  weak  and  helpless  still  ? 

What  shall  the  task  of  mercy  be. 
Amid  the  toils,  the  strifes,  the  tears 
Of  those  who  live  when  length  of  years 

Is  wasting  this  apple-tree? 


24  ARBOR  DAY 

"Who  planted  this  old  apple-tree?" 
The  children  of  that  distant  day 
Thus  to  some  aged  man  shall  say; 
And,  gazing  on  its  mossy  stem, 
The  gray-haired  man  shall  answer  them: 

"A  poet  of  the  land  was  he, 
Born  in  the  rude  but  good  old  times; 
'Tis  said  he  made  some  quaint  old  rhymes 

On  planting  the  apple-tree." 


TREE  PLANTING 

BY  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES 

{Extract  from  Letter) 
The  trees  may  outlive  the  memory  of  more  than 
one  of  those  in  whose  honor  they  were  planted. 
But  if  it  is  something  to  make  two  blades  of  grass 
grow  where  only  one  was  growing,  it  is  much  more 
to  have  been  the  occasion  of  the  planting  of  an 
oak  which  shall  defy  twenty  scores  of  winters,  or 
of  an  elm  which  shall  canopy  with  its  green  cloud  of 
foliage  half  as  many  generations  of  mortal  immortal- 
ities. I  have  written  many  verses,  but  the  best 
poems  I  have  produced  are  the  trees  I  planted  on  the 
hillside  which  overlooks  the  broad  meadows, 
scalloped  and  rounded  at  their  edges  by  loops  of 
the  sinuous  Housatonic.  Nature  finds  rhymes 
for  them  in  the  recurring  measures  of  the  seasons. 


THE  CELEBRATION  OF  ARBOR  DAY  25 

Winter  strips  them  of  their  ornaments  and  gives 
them,  as  it'  were,  in  prose  translation,  and  summer 
reclothes  them  in  all  the  splendid  phrases  of  their 
leafy  language. 

What  are  these  maples  and  beeches  and  birches 
but  odes  and  idyls  and  madrigals  ?  What  are  these 
pines  and  firs  and  spruces  but  holy  hymns,  too  solemn 
for  the  many-hued  raiment  of  their  gay  deciduous 
neighbors  ? 


THE  CELEBRATION  OF  ARBOR  DAY 

BY  MONCURE  D.  CONWAY 

{Extract  from  Letter) 
It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  think  of  the  young  people 
assembling  to  celebrate  the  planting  of  trees,  and 
connecting  them  with  the  names  of  authors  whose 
works  are  the  further  and  higher  products  of  our 
dear  old  Mother  Nature.  An  Oriental  poet  says 
of  his  hero: 

Sunshine  was  he  in  a  wintry  place, 

And  in  the  midsummer  coolness  and  shade. 

Such  are  all  true  thinkers,  and  no  truer  monu- 
ments of  them  can  exist  than  beautiful  trees.  Our 
word  book  is  from  the  beech  tablets  on  which  men 
used  to  write.  Our  word  Bible  is  from  the  Greek 
for  bark  of  a  tree.  Our  word  paper  is  from  the  tree 
papyrus  —  the  tree  which  Emerson  found  the  most 


36  ARBOR  DAY 

interesting  thing  he  saw  in  Sicily.  Our  word  library 
is  from  the  Latin  liber,  bark  of  a  tree.  Thus  liter- 
ature is  traceable  in  the  growth  of  trees,  and  was 
originally  written  on  leaves  and  wooden  tablets. 
The  West  responds  to  the  East  in  associating 
great  writers  with  groups  of  trees,  and  a  grateful 
posterity  will  appreciate  the  poetry  of  this  idea 
as  well  while  it  enjoys  the  shade  and  beauty 
which  the  schools  are  securing  for  it. 


SPRING  CLEANING 

BY  SAM  WALTER  FOSS 

From  The  Yankee  Blade 
Yes,  clean  yer  house,  an'  clean  yer  shed, 

An'  clean  yer  barn  in  every  part; 
But  brush  the  cobwebs  from  yer  head. 

An'  sweep  the  snowbank  from  yer  heart; 
Jes'  w'en  spring  cleanin'  comes  aroun' 

Bring  forth  the  duster  an'  the  broom, 
But  rake  your  fogy  notions  down. 

An'  sweep  yer  dusty  soul  of  gloom. 

Sweep  oP  ideas  out  with  the  dust. 
An'  dress  the  soul  in  newer  style, 

Scrape  from  yer  min'  its  wornout  crust, 
An'  dump  it  in  the  rubbish  pile; 

Sweep  out  the  dates  that  burn  an'  smart. 
Bring  in  new  loves  serene  an'  pure. 


SPRING  CLEANING  27 

Aroun'  the  hearthstone  of  the  heart 
Place  modern  styles  of  furniture. 

Clean  out  yer  moril  cubby -holes, 

Sweep  out  the  dirt,  scrape  off  the  slum! 
'Tis  cleaning  time  for  healthy  souls; 

Get  up  and  dust!    The  spring  hez  come! 
Clean  out  the  corners  of  the  brain. 

Bear  down  with  scrubbin'  brush  and  soap, 
And  dump  ol'  Fear  into  the  rain, 

An'  dust  a  cozy  chair  for  Hope. 

Clean  out  the  brain's  deep  rubbish  hole, 

Soak  every  cranny,  great  an'  small. 
An'  in  the  front  room  of  the  soul 

Hang  pootier  pictures  on  the  wall. 
Scrub  up  the  winders  of  the  mind, 

Clean  up,  an'  let  the  spring  begin; 
Swing  open  wide  the  dusty  blind, 

An'  let  the  April  sunshine  in. 

Plant  flowers  in  the  soul's  front  yard. 

Set  out  new  shade  and  blossom  trees, 
An'  let  the  soul  once  froze  and  hard 

Sprout  crocuses  of  new  idees. 
Yes,  clean  yer  house  an'  clean  yer  shed. 

An  clean  yer  bam  in  ev'ry  part; 
But  brush  the  cobwebs  from  yer  head 

An'  sweep  the  snowbanks  from  yer  heart. 


23  ARBOR  DAY 


A    UNIQUE    CELEBRATION 

From  Journal  oj  Education 

The  most  unique  celebration  of  Arbor  Day, 
probably,  is  that  which  occurs  at  Eynsford,  England, 
where  some  remarkable  commemorative  tree-plant- 
ing has  taken  place.  The  observance  began  in  1897, 
during  Queen  Victoria's  diamond  jubilee,  when 
shade  trees  were  planted  in  acrostic  form,  and  an 
orchard  of  apple  trees  was  set  out.  During  the 
South  African  war  the  shade  trees  commemorated 
the  defense  of  Kimberly,  Ladysmith,  and  Mafeking. 
In  1902,  four  years  after  Queen  Victoria's  death, 
trees  were  planted  along  the  main  road  as  a  memo- 
rial in  acrostic  form,  expressing  Lord  Tennyson's 
line: — 

She  wrought  her  people  lasting  good. 

Since  then  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  trees  have  been 
planted  whose  initial  letters  spell  out  two  lines  from 
Robert  Browning's  ''Rabbi  Ben  Ezra": 

The  best  is  yet  to  be: 

The  last  of  life  for  which  the  first  was  made. 

In  this  way  the  people  are  drawn  to  learn 
the  names  of  many  different  varieties  of  trees, 
so  as  to  identify  them  at  sight  and  read  the 
couplets  from  the  fifty-two  initial  letters,  for 
themselves. 


ARBOR  DAY  SONG        29 


ARBOR  DAY  SONG 

BY  MARY  A.  HEERMANS 

Or  NATURE  broad  and  free, 
Of  grass   and   flower  and   tree, 

Sing  we  to-day. 
God  hath  pronounced  it  good, 
So  we,  His  creatures  would 
Offer  to  field  and  wood 

Our  heartfelt  lay. 

To  all  that  meets  the  eye, 
In  earth,  or  air,  or  sky, 

Tribute  we  bring. 
Barren  this  world  would  be. 
Bereft  of  shrub  and  tree; 
Now  gracious  Lord  to  Thee 

Praises  we  sing. 

May  we  Thy  hand  behold, 
As  bud  and  leaf  unfold, 

See  but  Thy  thought; 
Nor  heedlessly  destroy. 
Nor  pass  unnoticed  by; 
But  be  our  constant  joy 

All  Thou  has  wrought. 

As  each  small  bud  and  flower 
Speaks  of  the  Maker's  power. 
Tells  of  His  love; 


30  ARBOR  DAY 

So  we,  Thy  children  dear, 
Would  live  from  year  to  year, 
Show  forth  Thy  goodness  here, 
And  then  above. 


CELEBRATING  ARBOR  DAY 

BY  WALTER    E.   RANGER 

From  Rhode  Island  Arbor  Day  Annualj  1907 
By  AN  excursion  into  the  woods  pupils  may  learn, 
under  the  direction  of  their  teacher,  to  identify  the 
most  common  kinds  of  trees  and  gain  a  more  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  trees.  Such  an  excursion, 
when  practicable,  would  not  be  an  unfitting  feature 
of  Arbor  Day  observance,  and  would  not  necessarily 
preclude  other  customary  exercises  both  within  and 
without  the  schoolroom. 

The  State  Forester  has  made  the  following  inter- 
esting suggestion:  "It  would  seem  to  me  expedient 
for  some  of  the  schools  to  reserve  a  shaded  corner 
of  the  grounds  for  a  small  forest  nursery  —  a  bed 
about  four  feet  wide  and  any  convenient  length  — 
in  which  to  raise  nursery  stock  for  planting  shade 
and  forest  trees  on  Arbor  Day.  Such  a  nursery 
could  be  started  on  Arbor  Day  by  putting  into  this 
bed  some  tiny  seedlings  such  as  may  be  found  at 
that  time  under  some  of  the  mature  trees  of  beech, 
maple,  oak,  ash,  pine,  and  chestnut.    Later  the 


CELEBRATING  ARBOR  DAY         31 

nursery  could  be  extended  by  planting  tree- seeds 
gathered  in  the  following  autumn." 

The  proper  observance  of  Arbor  Day  is  limited 
neither  to  literary  programme  nor  to  tree  planting. 
Since  man's  visible  works  are  but  an  expression  of 
his  life,  the  aim  of  the  school  must  be  the  develop- 
ment of  virile  character,  of  which  good  works  are 
the  issue.  For  this  end  in  the  training  of  children 
and  youth.  Arbor  Day  offers  the  opportunity  of 
fostering  the  love  of  natural  beauty,  awakening  an 
interest  in  civic  improvement,  imparting  a  knowledge 
of  the  value  of  trees,  giving  instruction  in  practical 
forestry,  and  providing  a  practical  training  in  tree- 
planting  and  related  arts.  If  the  children  of  to-day 
form  the  habit  of  making  things  look  better  at 
school  and  home,  they  will  later  be  found  active 
in  all  efforts  for  public  improvement. 

An  interesting  programme  of  song  and  recitation 
and  the  making  of  some  spot  more  beautiful  by 
tree,  shrub,  or  flower  are  alike  means  for  making 
impressions  of  truth  and  beauty  that  will  endure  in 
the  lives  of  children.  For  this  purpose  it  is  essential 
that  every  school  convene  in  its  school  home  on 
Arbor  Day  morning  and  that  every  child  shall  have 
a  personal  part,  however  small,  in  the  exercises  of 
the  day. 

Let  Arbor  Day  be  associated  with  the  study  of 
nature  throughout  the  year.  Let  every  school, 
when  possible,  have  its  garden.    Keeping  the  school 


35  ARBOR  DAY 

yard  free  from  rubbish  is  a  way  of  improvement. 
For  adornment  of  school  grounds  the  planting  of 
shrubs  and  vines,  as  well  as  trees,  may  be  eflfective. 
For  the  sake  of  the  children  every  school -house  should 
image  God's  beauty  of  field  and  forest.  The  future 
beauty  of  homestead,  school  grounds,  roadside  and 
public  park  is  now  growing  in  the  hearts  of  to-day's 
children.  Let  the  school  become  an  ally  of  the 
community  in  all  public  betterment. 

The  proper  observance  of  Arbor  Day  contributes 
not  a  little  to  right  civic  training.  It  strengthens 
the  link  between  the  child  and  nature.  In  awaken- 
ing an  interest  in  the  life  of  tree  and  plant,  it  inspires 
kindness,  gentle  manners,  and  a  fine  regard  for  the 
rights  and  well-being  of  others.  It  gives  a  larger 
love  of  home  and  familiar  scenes  and  a  deep  interest 
in  men  and  things,  which  is  at  the  heart  of  good 
citizenship. 


WHAT  DO  YOU  SEE? 
From  Wisconsin  Arbor  and  Bird  Day  Annual^  1903 

Whether  we  see  much  or  little  in  nature  is  deter- 
mined by  the  intelligence  and  training  of  the  mind 
which  interprets  what  our  eyes  look  upon.  Nature 
is  a  closed  book  to  many  and  tells  no  story  of  interest 
and  beauty. 

The  first  purpose  of  the  celebration  of  Arbor  Day 
should  be  to  arouse  in  children  a  strong  desire  to 


WHAT  DO  YOU  SEE  33 

know  more  about  trees  and  flowers  and  animals 
about  them,  and  to  care  more  for  them. 

The  teacher  who  can,  on  this  and  succeeding 
days,  accomplish  this  purpose,  may  rest  assured 
that  she  has  done  much  to  enlarge  the  life  and 
increase  the  happiness  of  those  in  her  care.  Chil- 
dren are  always  interested  in  life.  It  is  to  them  a 
source  of  continual  curiosity  and  wonder. 

The  intelligent  teacher  will  find  it  easy  but  neces- 
sary to  direct  this  interest  so  that  it  shall  result  in  close 
observation  and  serious  study.  The  materials  are 
always  at  hand.  Every  season  presents  life  in  a 
new  aspect,  and  in  almost  infinite  variety. 

Do  not  permit  the  minds  of  the  children  to  be 
diverted  from  the  simple  thought  of  this  day. 
While  it  is  unquestionably  desirable  to  have  the 
school -house  and  grounds  cleaned  at  this  season  of 
the  year,  this  should  be  done  as  a  preparation  for 
Arbor  Day,  not  as  a  part  of  its  celebration.  Let 
no  drudgery  turn  the  children's  minds  from  the  full 
enjoyment  of  the  day. 

The  schoolroom  should  be  decorated  as  tastefully 
as  possible.  For  this  purpose  encourage  the  chil- 
dren to  bring  flowers  and  birds  from  their  homes. 
The  joyousness  and  beauty  of  nature  should  fill 
the  schoolroom.  Plant  some  flowers  as  well  as 
trees.  Even  if  the  school  ground  is  small  so  that 
most  of  it  must  be  used  by  the  children  for  a  play- 
ground, surely  some  little  comer  may  be  foimd  for 


34  ARBOR  DAY 

a  flower  bed.  The  care  and  growth  of  these  flowers 
will  furnish  materials  for  many  an  interesting 
lesson.  In  Japan,  where  the  great  population  makes 
it  necessary  for  the  yards  about  the  homes  to  be 
very  small,  the  family  always  finds  some  little  plot 
for  flowers  to  give  a  touch  of  color  and  beauty  to 
their  homes.  Those  who  have  visited  this  far-off 
land  testify  how  much  this  adds  to  the  attractiveness 
of  the  simple  dwellings  of  the  Japanese.  The 
ordinary  country  school-house  needs  all  the  charm 
that  can  be  added  by  this  inexpensive  decoration 
to  make  it  an  attractive  home  for  children.  The 
usual  barrenness  of  it  all,  the  lack  of  taste  in  its 
architecture  and  beauty  in  its  surroundings,  are 
not  likely  to  cultivate  high  aesthetic  ideals  in  the 
youthful  minds;  and  the  ideals  of  childhood  must 
certainly  have  much  influence  upon  the  homes 
which  these  same  children,  grown  to  men  and 
women,  will  control  later  in  life.  How  much  a  few 
vines  planted  on  Arbor  and  Bird  Day,  or  at 
any  other  suitable  season,  will  accomplish  in  render- 
ing the  exterior  of  the  school  or  the  home  attractive! 
Flowers,  vines  and  trees,  beautifying  the  school- 
house  and  grounds,  react  and  beautify  the  homes. 
The  interests  of  children  do  much  to  determine  the 
interest  of  parents.  When  fathers  and  mothers 
find  their  children  enthusiastic  in  their  efforts  to 
render  their  school -house  attractive  and  pleasant, 
the  homes  will  sooner  or  later  show  the  results. 


AN  ARBOR  DAY  TREE  35 

School  decoration  is  almost  certain  to  result  in  home 
decoration. 

The  Arbor  Day  programme  should  teach  a  lesson 
in  kindness  to  animals.  If  children  become  inter- 
ested in  the  study  of  the  habits  and  characteristics 
of  animals,  there  is  little  likelihood  that  cruelty 
will  be  practised.  As  we  learn  to  know  animals, 
we  find  in  them  so  many  qualities  that  appeal  to  our 
sympathies  and  our  interests,  that  the  desire  to  des- 
troy or  harm  fades  away.  The  boy  who  has  learned 
from  experience  that  many  wild  animals  will  soon 
cease  to  fear  him  if  he  does  not  frighten  them,  is 
not  likely  to  continue  to  injure  them,  for  he  will 
want  them  to  be  his  friends. 


AN  ARBOR  DAY  TREE 

UNKNOWN 

Dear  little  tree  that  we  plant  to-day, 
What  will  you  be  when  we're  old  and  gray? 
"The  savings  bank  of  the  squirrel  and  mouse, 
For  robin  and  wren  an  apartment  house, 
The  dressing-room  of  the  butterfly's  ball. 
The  locust's  and  katydid's  concert  hall. 
The  schoolboy's  ladder  in  pleasant  June, 
The  schoolgirl's  tent  in  the  July  noon, ' 
And  my  leaves  shall  whisper  them  merrily 
A  tale  of  the  children  who  planted  me." 


36  ARBOR  DAY 


WHEN  WE  PLANT  A  TREE* 

BY  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES 

(Extract  jrom  Letter) 

When  we  plant  a  tree,  we  are  doing  what  we  can 
to  make  our  planet  a  more  wholesome  and  happier 
dwelling  place  for  those  who  come  after  us  if  not  for 
ourselves. 

As  you  drop  the  seed,  as  you  plant  the  saplings 
your  left  hand  hardly  knows  what  your  right  hand 
is  doing.  But  Nature  knows,  and  in  due  time  the 
Power  that  sees  and  works  in  secret  will  reward 
you  openly.  You  have  been  warned  against  hiding 
your  talent  in  a  napkin;  but  if  your  talent  takes  the 
form  of  a  maple-key  or  an  acorn,  and  your  napkin  is 
a  shred  of  the  apron  that  covers  "  the  lap  of  the  earth," 
you  may  hide  it  there,  unblamed;  and  when  you  render 
in  your  account  you  will  find  that  your  deposit  has 
been  drawing  compound  interest  all  the  time. 


PLANT  A  TREE* 

BY  LUCY  LARCOM 

He  WHO  plants  a  tree 
Plants  a  hope. 
Rootlets  up  through  fibres  blindly  grope; 
Leaves  tmfold  into  horizons  free. 


*  By  special  permission  of  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


PLANT  A  TREE  37 

So  man's  life  must  climb 

From  the  clods  of  time 

Unto  heavens  sublime. 
Canst  thou  prophesy,  thou  little  tree, 
What  the  glory  of  thy  boughs  shall  be? 

He  who  plants  a  tree 
Plants  a  joy; 
Plants  a  comfort  that  will  never  cloy. 
Every  day  a  fresh  reality, 

Beautiful  and  strong, 

To  whose  shelter  throng 

Creatures  blithe  with  song. 
If  thou  couldst  but  know,  thou  happy  tree, 
Of  the  bliss  that  shall  inhabit  thee! 

He  who  plants  a  tree, 
He   plants   peace. 
Under  its  green  curtains  jargons  cease; 
Leaf  and  zephyr  murmur  soothingly; 

Shadows  soft  with  sleep 

Down  tired  eyelids  creep, 

Balm  of  slumber  deep. 
Never  hast  thou  dreamed,  thou  blessed  tree, 
Of  the  benediction  thou  shalt  be. 

He  who  plants  a  tree. 
He  plants  youth; 
Vigor  won  for  centuries,  in  sooth; 
Life  of  time,  that  hints  eternity! 


38  ARBOR  DAY 

Boughs  Iheir  strength  uprear, 

New  shoots  every  year 

On  old  growths  appear. 
Thou  shalt  teach  the  ages,  sturdy  tree, 
Youth  of  soul  is  immortality. 

He  who  plants  a  tree, 
He  plants  love. 
Tents  of  coolness  spreading  out  above 
Wayfarers  he  may  not  live  to  see. 

Gifts  that  grow  are  best; 

Hands  that  bless  are  blest; 

Plant:  Life  does  the  rest! 
Heaven  and  earth  help  him  who  plants  a  tree, 
And  his  work  its  own  reward  shall  be. 


II 

SPIRIT  AND  SIGNIFICANCE 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  TREE* 

BY  HENRY  CUYLER  BUNNER 

What  does  he  plant  who  plants  a  tree  ?    \ 
He  plants  the  friend  of  sun  and  sky; 
He  plants  the  flag  of  breezes  free; 
The  shaft  of  beauty  towering  high; 
He  plants  a  home  to  heaven  anigh, 
For  song  and  mother-croon  of  bird 
In  hushed  and  happy  twilight  heard  — 
The  treble  of  heaven  *s  harmony  — 
These  things  he  plants  who  plants  a  tree. 

What  does  he  plant  who  plants  a  tree, 

He  plants  cool  shade  and  tender  rain, 
And  seed  and  bud  of  days  to  be, 
And  years  that  fade  and  flush  again; 
He  plants  the  glory  of  the  plain; 
He  plants  the  forest's  heritage; 
The  harvest  of  a  coming  age; 
The  joy  that  unborn  eyes  shall  see  — 
These  things  he  plants  who  plants  a  tree. 

What  does  he  plant  who  plants  a  tree  ? 
He  plants,  in  sap  and  leaf  and  wood. 


*From  "The  Poems  of  H.  C.  Bunner,"  copyright  1884,  1892, 
1896,  1899,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

41 


42  ARBOR  DAY 

In  love  of  home  and  loyalty 

And  far-cast  thought  of  civic  good  — 
His  blessings  on  the  neighborhood, 
Who  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand 
Holds  all  the  growth  of  all  our  land 
A  nation's  growth  from  sea  to  sea 
Stirs  in  his  heart  who  plants  a  tree. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  ARBOR  DAY 

BY  FRANK  A.  HILL 

The  spirit  of  Arbor  Day  is  that  of  a  deep  love  for 
trees  —  a  love  that  includes  their  beauty  on  the  one 
hand  and  their  service  on  the  other.  This  love  has 
a  thousand  aspects  and  a  thousand  degrees,  for  the 
beauty  and  the  service  that  call  it  forth  are  as  varied 
as  the  trees  that  grow  and  the  needs  of  earth 
and  man  to  which  they  so  admirably  minister. 
There  is  the  beauty  of  the  stately  pine,  the  rugged 
oak,  the  graceful  elm.  There  is  the  service  of  the 
fragrant  eucalyptus  that  brings  health  to  the  deadly 
Campagna,  of  the  versatile  palm  that  makes  habit- 
able the  waste  places  of  the  tropical  belt,  of  the  humid 
forest  that  holds  back  the  waters  of  the  rainy  season 
to  bless  the  dry  that  follows  after.  The  problems 
of  the  trees  are  also  without  number.  There  is  the 
problem  of  the  East  —  to  save  its  forests  where  now 
they  abound.    There  is  the  problem  of  the  West  — 


ARBOR   DAY  ASPIRATION  43 

to  make  forests  abound  where  now  they  are  unknown. 
A  forest  murderously  ruined  by  the  lumberman's 
axe  is  like  a  field  of  battle  when  the  fighting  is  over  — 
a  sight  to  make  humanity  weep.  Not  so  the  forest 
that  springs  into  life  from  the  treeless  plain.  And 
so  the  mission  of  Arbor  Day  varies  as  the  trees 
themselves.  One  blessed  thing,  however,  is  com- 
mon to  all  the  Arbor  Days  of  the  land  we  love,  and 
that  is  the  spirit  to  make  the  most  of  God's  useful 
and  beautiful  trees. 


ARBOR  DAY  ASPIRATION 

BY  JOHN  RUSKIN 

We  will  try  to  make  some  small  piece  of  ground 
beautiful,  peaceful,  and  fruitful.  We  will  have 
no  untended  or  unthought-of  creatures  upon  it. 
We  will  have  flowers  and  vegetables  in  our  gardens, 
plenty  of  corn  and  grass  in  our  fields.  We  will  have 
some  music  and  poetry;  the  children  shall  learn  to 
dance  and  sing  it;  perhaps  some  of  the  old  people, 
in  time,  may  also.  We  will  have  some  art;  and 
little  by  little  some  higher  art  and  imagination 
may  manifest  themselves  among  us  —  nay  —  even 
perhaps  an  uncalculating  and  uncovetous  wisdom, 
as  of  rude  Magi,  presenting  gifts  of  gold  and 
frankincense. 


44  ARBOR  DAY 


THE    VIOLETS 

BY  AMANDA    B.    HARRIS 

Has  any  one,  I  wonder,  ever  classed  and  enumer- 
ated the  blues  of  violets?  I  am  sure  it  must  have 
taken  all  the  words  that  ever  represent  blue.  They 
are  turquoise,  they  are  amethystine,  they  are  sap- 
phire, azure,  cerulean.  They  are  like  the  blue  ether, 
like  blue  precious  stones;  like  eyes  of  blue.  They 
pale  into  lavender;  they  darken  to  purple.  There 
are  varieties  in  sky-blue  with  purple  streaks;  in  deep 
violet  striped  with  a  lighter  tint;  in  palest  blue,  with 
heavy  shadings;  and  some  that  lack  but  little  of 
being  red. 


THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  GARDENING 

BY  JOHN  WILLIAM  COLE 

There  is  such  a  close  affinity  between  a  proper 
cultivation  of  a  flower-garden,  and  a  right  discipline 
of  the  mind,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  any 
thoughtful  person  that  has  made  any  proficiency 
in  the  one,  to  avoid  paying  a  due  attention  to  the 
other.  That  industry  and  care  which  are  so  requis- 
ite to  cleanse  a  garden  from  all  sorts  of  weeds  will 
naturally  suggest  to  him  how  much  more  expedient 
it  would  be  to  exert  the  same  diligence  in  eradicating 
all  sorts  of  prejudices,  follies,  and  vices  from  the 


ARBOR  DAY  45 

mind,  where  they  will  be  as  sure  to  prevail,  without 
a  great  deal  of  care  and  correction,  as  common  weeds, 
in  a  neglected  piece  of  ground. 

And  as  it  requires  more  pains  to  extirpate  some 
weeds  than  others,  according  as  they  are  more  firmly 
fixed,  more  numerous,  or  more  naturalized  to  the 
soil;  so  those  faults  will  be  found  the  most  difficult 
to  be  suppressed  which  have  been  of  the  longest 
growth,  and  taken  the  deepest  root;  which  are  more 
predominant  in  number,  and  most  congenial  to 
the  constitution. 


FOR  POSTERITY 

BY  ALEXANDER  SMITH 

A  MAN  does  not  plant  a  tree  for  himself,  he  plants 
it  for  posterity.  And,  sitting  idly  in  the  sunshine,  I 
think  at  times  of  the  unborn  people  who  will,  to 
some  small  extent,  be  indebted  to  me.  Remember 
me  kindly,  ye  future  men  and  women! 


ARBOR  DAY 

BY  PROF.  B.  PICKMAN   MANN,  SON  OF  HORACE  MANN 

(Extract  jrom  Letter) 

The  project  of  connecting  the  planting  of  trees 

with  the  names  of  authors  is  a  beautiful  one,  and  one 

certain  to  exert  a  beneficial  influence  upon  the 

children  who  participate  in  these  exercises.    The 


46  ARBOR  DAY 

institution  of  an  "Arbor  Day"  is  highly  commend- 
able from  its  artistic  consequences,  and  cannot  fail 
to  result  in  great  benefit  to  the  climate  and  to  the 
commercial  interests  of  the  country  when  it  becomes 
an  institution  of  general  adoption. 


PLANT  TREES 

BY  J.  WILSON 

The  young  should  plant  trees  in  recognition  of 
the  obligations  they  owe  to  those  who  planted  trees 
for  them.  The  old  should  plant  trees  to  illustrate 
their  hope  for  the  future,  and  their  concern  for  those 
who  are  to  come  after  them.  The  economist  should 
plant  trees,  especially  in  the  prairie  country,  and 
beautify  the  landscape  and  ameliorate  the  sweep 
of  the  north  wind.  And  as  we  plant  trees  on  Arbor 
Day  a  kindred  feeling  to  that  experienced  on  the 
Fourth  of  July  should  possess  us.  For  the  time 
being  we  are  one  in  mind;  we  are  one  people  engaged 
in  something  to  do  good  to  mankind. 


WASTE  PLACES 

BY  GEN.  SAMUEL  F.  GARY 

{Extract  from  Letter) 
Imparting  to  waste  places  more  than  their  pristine 
beauty  and  associating  the  names  of  departed  loved 


ARBOR  DAY  47 

ones  with  our  work  is  a  poetic  and  sublime  concep- 
tion. It  symbolizes  our  faith  in  a  resurrection  to 
a  higher  and  better  life  when  the  hard  struggles  of 
this  sin-cursed  world  are  passed. 


THE  COMMONEST  DELIGHT 

BY  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER 

To  OWN  a  bit  of  ground,  to  scratch  it  with  a  hoe, 
to  plant  seeds  and  watch  their  renewal  of  life  —  this 
is  the  commonest  delight  of  the  race,  the  most 
satisfactory  thing  one  can  do. 


ARBOR  DAY 

BY  THOMAS  B.  STOCKWELL 

The  rapid  approach  of  spring  inevitably  turns 
all  thoughts  to  Arbor  Day.  That  is  naturally  the 
children's  day  of  all  the  year.  After  such  a  severe 
and  stormy  winter,  with  its  snows  and  covering  of 
ice,  the  buds  bursting  their  bonds  and  the  trees 
putting  forth  their  leaves  and  flowers  present  an  old, 
but  this  year  an  especially  welcome,  miracle. 

In  the  years  that  have  past  we  have  learned  some 
things  that  are  possible  for  us,  and  as  we  face  the 
new  growth  of  nature  at  this  time  the  question  arises, 
to  what  use  can  we  put  any  of  our  knowledge? 
First  of  all,  we  have  been  guided  into  the  formal 


48  ARBOR  DAY 

study  of  plant  life  as  never  before.  The  inherent 
power  of  all  growing  plants,  even  the  smallest  and 
humblest,  has  been  brought  to  our  notice  and  we 
have  had  our  attention  turned  from  books  to  plants, 
as  equally  the  genuine  sources  of  truth  and  inspira- 
tion. Now  is  the  time  in  which  we  should  profit 
by  all  this  instruction  in  the  past. 

The  countless  lessons  that  may  be  learned  from 
every  plant  that  grows  invite  you  all  to  a  genuine 
feast  of  good  things.  I  am  sure  that  no  longer 
is  the  study  of  plant  or  bird  life  in  any  of  its  marvel- 
ous forms  accounted  as  foreign  to  the  real  work 
of  the  schoolroom,  only  it  must  have  results  and  be 
based  upon  actual  conditions.  In  such  a  way  alone 
will  it  justify  itself.  Every  school  must  be  guided 
by  itselfy  and  in  the  same  way  each  pupil  must 
follow  his  own  bent.  There  is  no  royal  road  by 
which  all  can  penetrate  to  the  secrets  of  Nature. 
She  loves  all  who  seek  to  know  them,  and  she  reveals 
the  choicest  and  most  wonderful  to  those  who  are 
most  truly  interested  and  who  are  inspired  by  the 
most  genuine  love  for  her. 

The  most  difficult,  and  yet  the  most  attractive, 
branch  of  nature  study  is  that  of  birds,  with  their 
exquisite  coloring  which  affords  so  much  pleasure 
to  the  eye,  their  songs,  so  new  and  yet  ever  old, 
which  ravish  the  ear,  and  yet  elude  the  great 
majority  of  us.  In  no  one  respect  does  one's 
culture  and  training  show  itself  as  in  the  real 


ARBOR  DAY  49 

study  of  bird  life  —  not  from  books  but  from  the 
object  itself. 

In  these  days  of  early  spring  what  more  engross- 
ing pursuit  can  there  be  than  to  **rise  with  the  lark" 
and  make  his  acquaintance  on  the  threshold  of  his 
own  home!  Quickness  of  perception  and  keenness 
of  eyesight  will  soon  be  trained  to  an  acuteness  that 
seems  almost  foreign  to  the  usual  pupil  at  his  ordi- 
nary school  tasks.  Even  the  teacher  will  find  ample 
reward  in  the  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
feathered  songsters  of  the  open  air  through  the 
wonderful  acuteness  of  hearing  and  the  marvelous 
power  of  location  and  identification  which  it 
gives  her. 

One  practical  object  of  our  nature  work  will  natur- 
ally be  the  beautification  of  our  own  school  grounds. 
Why  should  we  allow  the  place  where  we  spend  so 
much  of  our  time,  and  what  should  be  the  happiest 
hours  of  the  day,  to  be  so  barren  and  repulsive? 
To  the  adult  it  has  ceased  to  possess  any  charms, 
because  the  outside  world  has  become  the  field 
of  his  activity;  hence,  beyond  supplying  the 
necessities  for  the  school  life,  he  sees  little  use  in 
all  of  the  things  that  render  the  school  attractive 
to  the  child. 

The  imagination  of  the  child  is  now  in  full  control 
and  unless  we  give  it  rein  within  bounds,  its  educa- 
tion is  dwarfed  and  misdirected  to  its  permanent 
injury.    In  choice  of  a  lot  and  in  the  adornment 


50  ARBOR  DAY 

of  the  grounds  so  much  may  be  done  to  please  the  eye 
or  gratify  the  taste.  Oftentimes  what  might  appear 
to  parents,  or  even  teachers  and  committees,  as 
blemishes,  are  transformed  by  childish  imagination 
to  **  things  of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever.'* 

One  way  in  which  the  taste  of  the  child  for  self- 
activity  can  be  utilized  and  made  to  contribute 
to  the  common  notion  of  utility  is  by  the  cultivation 
of  the  "school  garden." 

Fortunately  we  have  not  reached  the  point  where 
many  of  our  school-houses  have  such  contracted 
grounds  that  they  furnish  no  opportunity  for  such 
a  venture,  and  they  are  indeed  few  and  far 
between  to  whom  such  a  possession  would  not 
become  a  source  of  constant  delight  and  of  sub- 
sequent profit. 

In  all  our  city  and  village  schools  the  school  garden 
affords  a  field  for  the  cultivation  of  a  truer  taste  for 
color,  as  well  as  a  realistic  sense  of  the  useful  and 
practical. 

Let  this  Arbor  Day  prove  that  past  lessons  in 
shrubs  and  flowers,  together  with  all  information 
relative  to  bird  and  insect  life,  have  been  sown  on 
good  ground  and  are  bearing  fruit  many  fold.  The 
day  may  come  sooner  than  we  expect  when  the  key 
to  solve  many  of  the  problems  that  beset  us  may  be 
furnished  by  some  one,  now  a  child,  whose  love  for 
this  class  of  ideas  will  be  surelj^*  traced  to  Arbor  Day 
and  its  celebration. 


ITS  EDUCATING  INFLUENCE        51 
ARBOR  DAY.  ITS  EDUCATING  INFLUENCE 

BY  B.  G.  NORTHRUP 

The  observance  of  Arbor  Day  has  already  led 
to  the  planting  of  myriads  of  trees  in  this  country. 
Important  as  is  this  result,  the  edticating  influence 
of  this  work  is  of  still  higher  value.  lOne  of  these 
educating  forces  begins  when  children  are  thus  led 
to  plant  not  only  trees,.but  tree-seeds,  acorns,  nuts, 
grape-stones  or  pits,  ai^d  then  to  observe  the  wonder-^ 
ful  miracles  which  the  tree-life  they  have  started  is 
working  out  before  them.  )  What  interest  and  profit, 
what  growth  of  mind  and  heart  they  will  gain  as 
they  watch  the  mysterious  forces  of  these  living 
germs,  their  marvelous  assimilating  power,  carrying 
on  a  curious  chemistry  in  their  underground  labo- 
ratory, linked  with  the  mysterious  apparatus  of 
the  leaves  above,  transforming  coarse  earth  and 
even  offensive  filth  into  living  forms  of  surpassing 
beauty  and  fragrance.  ( It  is  something  for  a  child 
who  has  dropped  such  a  germ  into  the  earth,  to  feel 
that  he  has  made  a  lasting  contribution  to  the 
natural  beauty  around  him,  for  there  is  nothing  more 
ennobling  than  the  consciousness  of  doing  some- 
thing for  future  generations,  which  may  prove 
a  growing  benefaction  in  coming  years,  a  better 
monument  than  any  in  bronze  or  marble.^  The 
trees  which  children  plant  around  the  homestead 


52  ARBOR  DAY 

and  watch  from  seed  to  shoot,  from  bud  to  limb, 
and  from  flower  to  fruit,  will  be  increasingly  prized 
with  a  sentiment  of  companionship  and  almost  of 
kinship  as  they  grow  into  living  memorials  of  happy 
youthful  days.  Thus,  the  educating  influences  of 
Arbor  Day  will  manifest  themselves  more  and 
more  as  the  years  go  by,  especially  to  all  who  apply 
Dr.  Holmes's  advice,  and  "make  trees  monuments 
of  history  and  character,'*  or  appreciate  his  saying, 
**I  have  written  many  verses,  but  the  best  poems  I 
have  produced  are  the  trees  I  have  planted,"  or  the 
striking  words  of  Sir  Walter  Scott:  "Planting  and 
pruning  trees  I  could  work  at  from  morning  till 
night.  There  is  a  sort  of  self-congratulation,  a 
little  tickling  self-flattery  in  the  idea  that  while  you 
are  pleasing  and  amusing  yourself,  you  are  seriously 
contributing  to  the  future  welfare  of  the  country." 
As  a  result  of  Arbor  Day,  talks  on  trees  and  tree- 
planting  are  now  common  in  our  best  schools. 
Every  pupil  should  be  led  to  observe,  recognize,  and 
admire  our  common  trees,  and  thus  come  to  realize 
that  they  form  the  finest  drapery  that  adorns  this 
earth  in  all  lands.  Such  love  of  trees  will  tend 
to  make  them  practical  arborists.  Let  the  parent 
as  well  as  teacher,  then,  encourage  every  child  —  girl 
or  boy  —  to  plant,  or  help  in  planting,  if  too  young 
to  work  alone,  some  flower,  shrub,  vine,  or  tree,  to 
be  known  by  his  or  her  name.  Such  offspring 
they  will  watch  with  pride,  as  every  month  or  year 


ITS  EDUCATING  INFLUENCE         53 

new  beauties  appear,  and  find  peculiar  pleasure 
in  the  parentage  of  trees,  whether  forest,  fruit,  or 
ornamental,  a  pleasure  that  never  cloys,  but  grows 
with  their  growth.  Such  tree-planting  is  a  grand 
discipline  in  foresight.  Mental  myopia  means  weak- 
ness and  folly,  while  the  habit  of  forecasting  con- 
sequences is  the  condition  of  wisdom.  Many 
youth  will  sow  only  where  they  can  quickly  reap. 
With  them  a  meagre  crop  soon  in  hand  outweighs 
a  golden  harvest  long  in  maturing.  The  tree- 
planter  can  appreciate  the  apothegm,  "  To  patiently 
work  and  wait,  year  after  year,  for  the  attainment 
of  some  far-ofiE  end,  shows  a  touch  of  the  sublime, 
and  implies  moral  no  less  than  mental  heroism.'' 


m 
PRACTICAL  SUGGESTIONS 


PLANTING  ON  SCHOOL  GROUNDS 

BY  CHARLES  H.  PECK 

From  New  York  Arbor  Day  Annual 

An  ideal  tree  should  be  one  with  a  sound,  straight 
well-formed  trunk,  slightly  tapering  upward,  free 
from  branches  to  the  full  symmetrical  head  that  it 
supports.  This  should  be  richly  clothed  with 
bright  green,  healthy  foliage  and  bear  at  the  proper 
time  an  abundance  of  beautiful,  fragrant  flowers, 
followed  in  due  time  by  a  crop  of  useful  or  edible 
fruit.  Moreover,  its  wood  should  be  valuable  for 
economic  purposes,  and  both  it  and  the  foliage 
should  be  free  from  the  destructive  and  defiling 
attacks  of  parasitic  insects  and  fungi.  The  tree 
should  also  be  sufficiently  hardy  to  endure  without 
serious  harm  the  frosts  of  winter  and  the  droughts 
of  summer.  Probably  no  tree  will  satisfactorily 
meet  all  these  requirements.  Those  that  possess 
most  of  these  qualities  should  be  considered  among 
the  best  for  transplanting.  The  simplest  standards 
by  which  any  tree  should  be  judged  would  be  its 
hardiness,  its  attractiveness,  and  its  usefulness. 
Any  tree  that  lacks  the  first  one  of  these  qualities 
should  be  discarded.    Possessing  this  character  and 

57 


58  ARBOR  DAY 

either  one  of  the  others  it  is  worthy  of  consideration. 
With  this  character  and  both  the  others  it  may  be 
classed  among  the  best  for  transplanting  in  school 
grounds. 

Theoretically,  trees  may  be  transplanted  late  in 
autumn,  after  active  growth  has  practically  ceased, 
or  early  in  spring  before  it  has  been  renewed.  The 
argument  in  favor  of  fall  planting  is  that  the  rains 
of  winter  and  early  spring  settle  and  compact  the 
soil  about  the  roots  of  the  transplanted  tree  so  that 
it  is  in  excellent  condition  to  begin  growth  as  soon 
as  the  weather  is  favorable  in  spring.  On  the  other 
hand,  common  practice  sanctions  the  transplanting 
of  trees  in  spring,  and  the  designation  of  Arbor  Day 
in  spring  presumes  that  this  is  at  least  a  proper  time 
for  this  work.  Besides,  it  is  possible  so  to  do  the 
work  that  it  may  not  be  necessary  to  wait  for  rain 
to  settle  the  earth  about  the  roots.  It  is  very  evi- 
dent of  course  that  a  very  young  tree  may  be  more 
easily  and  more  successfully  transplanted  than  an 
old  one.  A  mere  seedling  scarcely  a  year  old  may  be 
so  carefully  removed  with  the  soil  undisturbed  about 
its  roots  and  set  in  another  place  that  it  will  scarcely 
suffer  any  check  in  its  growth.  But  such  seedlings 
are  scarcely  fit  to  be  transplanted  to  school  grounds. 
Unless  specially  protected  they  would  soon  be  trod- 
den down  and  destroyed.  As  a  general  rule  it 
would  probably  be  best  to  select  trees  two  to  four 
feet  tall  for  transplanting.    Such  trees  would  not 


PLANTING  ON   SCHOOL  GROUNDS   59 

all  be  of  the  same  age,  for  some  trees  make  a  much 
more  rapid  growth  the  first  two  or  three  years  of 
life  than  others.  Some  of  the  evergreen  cone-bearing 
trees  grow  slowly  at  first  and  then  can  not  well  endure 
the  full  light  of  the  sun.  It  would  be  well  that 
these  should  be  a  little  older  when  transplanted  than 
the  others. 

In  considering  how  the  transplanting  is  to  be  done 
we  must  remember  that  a  tree  is  a  thing  of  life,  that 
it  cannot  be  removed  from  its  place  of  growth  and 
set  in  another  place  without  interfering,  for  a  time, 
with  the  regular  operation  of  its  vital  forces.  For 
this  reason  the  transplanting  should  be  done  at  a 
season  when  the  vital  forces  are  least  active,  and 
care  should  be  taken  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible 
all  injury  to  the  roots  of  the  tree  both  in  taking  it  up 
and  in  resetting  it.  The  time  between  the  two  opera- 
tions should  be  as  short  as  possible  and  during  the 
interval  the  roots  should  be  entirely  protected 
from  both  sun  and  wind  by  covering  them  with 
damp  moss  or  dipping  them  in  a  thin  mud  made  by 
mixing  rich  soil  and  water,  and  then  wrapping  them 
with  a  coarse  damp  cloth  or  canvas.  If  the  removal 
and  resetting  can  be  done  on  a  cloudy  day  so  much 
the  better.  Not  even  the  fine  fibrous  rootlets  should 
be  allowed  to  become  dry.  It  would  be  well  if  the 
hole  could  be  prepared  in  advance  for  the  reception 
of  the  tree.  Let  it  be  broad  enough  to  receive  the 
roots  without  any  bending  or  cramping.    It  may 


6o  ARBOR  DAY 

better  be  too  broad  than  too  narrow  and  a  little 
deeper  around  the  margin  than  in  the  centre.  It 
would  be  better,  if  deep  enough,  that  it  receive  a  layer 
of  rich  garden  soil  or  leaf  mold  three  or  four  inches 
thick  on  which  the  tree  may  stand.  A  pile  of  similar 
soil  should  be  ready  as  soon  as  the  tree  is  put  in 
position  to  sift  over  its  roots  and  pack  down  upon 
and  between  them.  Settle  this  soil  still  more  about 
the  fibrous  roots  by  giving  it  a  copious  sprinkling 
with  a  watering  pot.  Finally  fill  the  hole  with  soil 
and  cover  the  surface  with  a  layer  of  manure  to  act 
as  a  mulch  and  keep  the  soil  moist  about  the  roots. 
Put  no  manure  in  the  hole  nor  in  contact  with  the 
roots.  Plant  no  tree  so  near  the  school-house  that 
in  after  years  it  will  unduly  shade  the  windows  and 
darken  the  schoolroom.  Do  not  plant  the  trees  too 
close  to  each  other.  Give  them  an  abundance  of 
room  to  form  broad,  well-shaped  heads.  Before 
taking  up  the  tree  to  be  transplanted  it  is  well  to  cut 
away  any  slender,  feeble,  irregular  or  superfluous 
branches  in  order  to  reduce  the  head  to  good  shape 
and  to  diminish  the  demand  that  would  otherwise 
be  made  upon  the  roots  for  support  at  a  time  when 
they  are  not  able  to  supply  the  usual  amount  of 
moisture  and  nourishment.  If  the  tree  is  an 
evergreen  with  a  leading  shoot  do  not  by 
any  means  cut  back  or  injure  the  leading  shoot. 
Cut  out  the  feeble  branches  and  the  irregular 
ones   that  may   have  grown  between  the  nodes, 


DRAPER'S   ''TEN  COMMANDMENTS"  6i 

cutting  them   close    to  the  trunk  that  the  wound 
may  quickly  heal. 

The  following  native  trees  and  shrubs  are  among 
the  best  for  transplanting  in  our  school  grounds: 
white  pine,  balsam  fir,  tamarack,  basswood,  tulip 
tree,  sugar  maple,  silver  maple,  wild  black  cherry, 
chestnut,  paper  birch,  cranberry  tree,  winterberry. 


DRAPER'S  "TEN  COMMANDMENTS"   ON 
TREE  PLANTING 

1.  Do  not  allow  roots  to  be  exposed  to  the  sun, 
drying  winds,  or  frost. 

2.  Prune,  with  a  sharp  clean  cut,  any  broken  or 
injured  roots. 

3.  Have  the  holes  large  enough  to  admit  all  the 
roots  without  cramping. 

4.  Plant  in  fine  loam,  enriched  with  thoroughly 
decomposed  manure. 

5.  Do  not  allow  any  green  unfermented  manure 
to  come  in  contact  with  roots. 

6.  Spread  out  the  roots  in  their  natural  position 
and  work  fine  loam  among  them,  making  it  firm  and 
compact. 

7.  Do  not  plant  too  deep.  Let  upper  roots  be  set 
an  inch  lower  than  before. 

8.  Remove  all  broken  branches,  and  cut  back  at 
least  one-half  of  the  previous  year's  growth  of  wood. 


62  ARBOR  DAY 

9.  If  the  season  lacks  the  usual  rainfall,  water 
thoroughly  twice  a  week. 

10.  After-culture!  Keep  soil  in  a  good  degree 
of  fertility.  Mulching  the  trees  in  autumn  with 
manure  is  beneficial. 


TEN  PRINCIPLES  OF  PRUNING* 

BY  JULIA  E.  ROGERS 

1.  Pruning  the  roots  lessens  the  food  supply,  and 
so  retards  top  growth. 

2.  Pruning  the  top  invigorates  the  branches  that 
remain,  the  root  system  being  unchanged. 

3.  Removing  terminal  buds  induces  forking, 
thus  thickening  the  branching  system.  It  checks 
wood  production,  and  encourages  the  production 
of  fruit  and  flowers. 

4.  Unpruned  trees  tend  to  wood  production. 

5.  Summer  pruning  reduces  the  struggle  among 
leaves  and  twigs  for  light  and  produces  stronger  buds 
for  spring. 

6.  Winter  pruning  removes  superfluous  buds, 
inducing  greater  health  in  those  that  are  left  to 
develop. 

7.  Dead  wood  should  be  taken  out  at  any  season 
and  burned. 

8.  The  best  time  to  prune,  generally  speaking, 
is  just  before  the  growth  starts  in  the  spring. 

♦  From  "  The  Tree  Book,"  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 


HOW  TO  PLANT  A  TREE  6^ 

9.  Early  winter  pruning  is  undesirable  because 
the  healing  of  wounds  must  wait  until  spring. 

10.  Yearly  pruning  is  better  than  pruning  at  less 
frequent  intervals. 


HOW  TO  PLANT  A  TREE* 

BY  JULIA  E.    ROGERS 

7.  Dig  the  hole  wider  and  deeper  than  the  tree 
requires.  If  the  tree  just  fits  into  the  socket  the  tips 
of  the  roots  will  meet  a  hard  wall  which  they  are 
too  delicate  to  penetrate,  hold  fast  to,  or  feed  in. 

II.  Be  sure  that  the  surface  soil  is  hoarded  at 
one  side  when  the  hole  is  dug.  This  soil  is  mellow 
and  full  of  plant  food.  The  under  soil  is  harder  and 
more  barren.  Some  rich  garden  soil  can  well  be 
brought  over  and  used  instead  of  the  subsoil. 

///.  Take  up  as  large  a  root  system  as  possible 
with  the  tree  you  dig.  The  smaller  the  ball  of  earth, 
the  greater  the  loss  of  feeding  roots  and  the  danger 
of  starvation  to  the  tree. 

IV.  Trim  all  torn  and  broken  roots  with  a  sharp 
knife.  A  ragged  wound  below  or  above  the  ground 
is  slow  and  uncertain  in  healing.  A  clean,  slanting 
cut  heals  soonest  and  surest. 

V.  Set  the  tree  on  a  bed  of  mellow  soil  with  all  its 
roots  spread  naturally. 

VI.  Let  the  level  be  the  same  as  before.    The  tree 's 
*  From  "  The  Tree  Book,"  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 


64  ARBOR  DAY 

roots  must  be  planted,  but  not  buried  too  deep  to 
breathe.  A  stick  laid  across  the  hole  at  the  ground 
level  will  indicate  where  the  tree  "collar"  should  be. 

VII,  Sift  rich  earthy  free  from  clods,  among  the 
roots.  Hold  the  tree  erect  and  firm;  lift  it  a  little  to 
make  sure  the  spaces  are  well  filled  underneath. 
Pack  it  well  down  with  your  foot. 

VIII,  If  in  the  growing  season,  pour  in  water 
and  let  it  settle  away.  This  establishes  contact 
between  root  hairs  and  soil  particles,  and  dissolves 
plant  food  for  absorption.  If  the  tree  is  dormant 
do  not  water  it. 

IX,  Fill  the  hole  with  dirt.  Tramp  in  well  as 
filling  goes  on.  Heap  it  somewhat  to  allow  for 
settling.  If  subsoil  is  used,  put  it  on  last.  Make 
the  tree  firm  in  its  place. 

X,  Prune  the  top  to  a  few  main  branches  and 
shorten  these.  This  applies  to  a  sapling  of  a  few 
years  whose  head  you  are  able  to  form.  Older  trees 
should  also  be  pruned  to  balance  the  loss  of  roots. 
Otherwise  transpiration  of  water  from  the  foliage 
would  be  so  great  as  to  overtax  its  roots,  not  yet 
established  in  the  new  place.  Many  trees  die 
from  this  abuse.  People  cannot  bear  to  cut  back 
the  handsome  top,  though  a  handsomer  one  is  soon 
supplied  by  following  this  reasonable  rule. 

XI,  Water  the  tree  frequently  as  it  first  starts. 
A  thorough  soaking  of  all  the  roots,  not  a  mere 
sprinkling  of  the  surface  soil,  is  needed.     Continu- 


THE  BEST  TREES  AND  VINES       65 

ous  growth  depends  on  moisture  in  the  soil.    Drain- 
age will  remove  the  surplus  water. 

XII.  Keep  the  surface  soil  free  from  cakes  or 
crcLcks,  This  prevents  excessive  evaporation.  Do 
not  stir  the  soil  deep  enough  to  disturb  the  roots. 
Keep  out  grass  and  weeds. 


KINDS  OF  TREES  TO  PLANT 

ADAPTED  FROM  EDMUND  SPENSER 

The  sailing  Pine;  the  Cedar,  proud  and  tall; 

The  vine-prop  Elm;  the  Poplar,  never  dry; 
The  builder  Oak,  sole  king  of  forests  all; 
The  Aspen,  good  for  staves;  the  Cypress,  funeral; 
The  Laurel,  meed  for  mighty  conquerors 

And  poets  sage;  the  Fir,  that  weepeth  still; 
The  Willow,  worn  of  hopeless  paramours; 

The  Yew,  obedient  to  the  bender's  will; 
The  Birch,  for  shafts;  the  Sallow,  for  the  mill; 
The  warlike  Beech;  the  Ash,  for  nothing  ill; 
The  fruitful  Apple,  and  the  Platane  round; 
The  carver  Holm;  the  Maple  seldom  inward  sound. 


THE  BEST  TREES  AND  VINES 

BY  DR.  W.  J.  MILNE 

Trees  best  adapted  for  successful  culture  are  the 
elm,    maple,  linden,  ash,  birch,  beech,  dogwood, 


66  ARBOR  DAY 

pines,  spruces,  some  of  the  willows,  some  of  the 
poplars,  the  tulip  tree,  horse-chestnut,  catalpa, 
laburnum,  and  oak. 

The  shrubs  which  seem  best  adapted  to  orna- 
mentation are  the  deutzia,  hydrangea,  spirea,weigela, 
privet,  arbor  vitae,  flowering  cherry,  flowering  plum, 
and  hawthorn. 

Among  our  best  and  hardiest  vines  are  the  cle- 
matis, the  bitter  sweet,  wistaria,  trumpet  vine, 
honeysuckle,  morning  glory,  Virginia  creeper,  and 
ampelopsis  veitchii. 

The  best  plants  for  bedding  purposes  seem  to  be 
pansies,  verbenas,  geranium,  coleuses,  centaurea, 
and  hybrid  roses. 

Beautiful  beds  may  be  formed  by  planting  seeds 
of  the  portulaca,  pansies,  verbenas,  zinnias,  asters, 
dahlias,  petunias,  chrysanthemums,  nasturtiums, 
balsams,  phlox,  sweet  William,  and  seeds  of  other 
well-known  plants. 


SCHOOL  ENVIRONMENT 

From  Idaho  Arbor  Day  Manual 

The  improvement  and  care  of  the  school  grounds 
by  the  pupils  well  illustrates  the  force  of  custom 
in  creating  an  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  and  in 
developing  a  disposition  to  respect  public  property. 
What  is  done  by  the  organizer  of  the  school  in 


THE  SCHOOL  GARDEN  67 

creating  this  public  sentiment  can,  in  a  measure 
at  least,  be  accomplished  by  any  teacher  or  superin- 
tendent who  really  desires  to  beautify  the  school 
grounds  under  his  care.  Do  we  not  as  teachers 
greatly  underestimate  our  influence  in  nurturing 
the  sometimes  almost  extinguished  aesthetic  and 
nature  loving  instincts  of  our  pupils?  Do  we  fully 
realize  how  much  it  means  to  the  coming  citizen  to 
early  inculcate  a  high  regard  for  public  property  — 
how  much  it  means  for  character  to  create,  even 
during  the  kindergarten  years,  the  disposition  so 
often  expressed  by  both  boys  and  girls  when  asked 
about  some  improvement  on  the  school  premises, 
*'  Oh!  please  may  I  help ?" 


THE  SCHOOL  GARDEN 

BY  L.  C.  CORBETT 

A  SCHOOL  garden  should  be  considered  as  a  labo- 
ratory in  which  the  different  steps  in  the  life  of  a 
plant  are  to  be  illustrated.  The  nature  of  the  soil, 
the  importance  of  the  fertilization,  and  the  conditions 
essential  to  germination,  as  well  as  the  conditions 
conducive  to  growth,  can  all  be  illustrated  in  a  logical 
and  impressive  manner  in  the  school  garden.  Field 
excursions  may  be  the  ideal  way  of  conducting 
nature  study  work  with  reasoning  minds,  but  with 
minds  that  are  being  trained  to  a  logical  system 
and  in  a  consecutive  and  systematic  fashion  the 


68  ARBOR  DAY 

school  garden  affords  facilities  not  to  be  approached 
in  field  excursions.  Field  excursions  offer  discon- 
nected fragments  of  the  history  of  natural  objects, 
while  the  school  garden  furnishes  opportunities  for 
observing  plants  from  seed  time  to  harvest. 


A  PLEA 

BY  HENRY  VAN  DYKE 

Do  NOT  rob  or  mar  a  tree,  unless  you  really  need 
what  it  has  to  give  you.  Let  it  stand  and  grow  in 
virgin  majesty,  ungirdled  and  unscarred,  while  the 
trunk  becomes  a  firm  pillar  of  the  forest  temple,  and 
the  branches  spread  abroad  a  refuge  of  bright  green 
leaves  for  the  birds  of  the  air. 


IMPROVEMENT    OF    SCHOOL    GROUNDS 

BY  PROF.  L.  H.  BAILEY 

One's  training  for  the  work  of  life  is  begun  in 
the  home  and  fostered  in  the  school.  This  training 
is  the  result  of  a  direct  and  conscious  effort  on  the  part 
of  the  parent  and  teacher,  combined  with  the  indirect 
result  of  the  surroundings  in  which  the  child  is  placed. 
The  surroundings  are  more  potent  than  we  think, 
and  they  are  usually  neglected.  It  is  probable 
that  the  antipathy  to  farm  life  is  often  formed  before 


IMPROVEMENT  OF  GROUNDS        69 

the  child  is  able  to  reason  on  the  subject.  An  attrac- 
tive playground  will  do  more  than  a  profitable  wheat 
crop  to  keep  the  child  on  the  farm. 

Begin  with  the.  Fundamentals,  not  with  the  Details 
— If  an  artist  is  to  make  a  portrait,  he  first  draws  a 
few  bold  strokes,  representing  the  general  outline. 
He  "blocks  out"  the  picture.  With  the  general 
plan  well  in  mind,  he  gradually  works  in  the  inciden- 
tals and  the  details  —  the  nose,  eyes,  beard. 

Most  persons  reverse  this  natural  order  when  they 
plant  their  grounds.  They  first  ask  about  the  kind 
of  roses,  the  soil  for  snowballs,  how  far  apart  holly- 
hocks shall  be  planted.  It  is  as  if  the  artist  first 
asked  about  the  color  of  the  eyes  and  the  fashion 
of  the  necktie;  or  as  if  the  architect  first  chose  the 
color  or  paint  and  then  planned  his  building.  The 
result  of  this  type  of  planting  is  that  there  is  no  plan, 
and  the  yard  means  nothing  when  it  is  done.  Begin 
with  the  plan,  not  with  the  plants. 

The  Place  should  mean  something  —  The  home 
ground  should  be  homelike,  retired,  and  cozy.  The 
school  ground  should  be  set  off  from  the  bare  fields, 
and  should  be  open  enough  to  allow  of  playgrounds. 
It  should  be  hollow  —  well  planted  on  the  side, 
open  in  the  interior.  The  side  next  the  highway 
should  contain  little  planting.  The  place  should  be 
a  picture,  not  a  mere  collection  of  trees  and  bushes. 

Keep  the  Center  of  the  Place  Open  —  Do  not 
scatter  the  trees  over  the  place.    They  will  be  in 


76  ARBOR  DAY 

the  way.  The  boys  will  break  them  down.  More- 
over, they  do  not  look  well  when  scattered  over  the 
whole  area.  When  an  artist  makes  a  picture  with 
many  people  in  it,  he  does  not  place  the  persons  one 
by  one  all  over  his  canvas;  he  masses  them.  There- 
by he  secures  a  stronger  effect.  He  focuses 
attention  rather  than  distributes  it. 

Next  comes  the  planting.  Let  it  be  irregular  and 
natural.  First  of  all,  cover  up  the  outhouses.  Then 
plant  heavily  on  the  side,  or  in  the  direction  of  the 
prevailing  wind.  Leave  openings  in  your  plan 
wherever  there  are  views  to  be  had  of  fine  old  trees, 
attractive  farm  homes,  a  brook,  or  a  beautiful  hill  or 
field.  Throw  a  handful  of  shrubs  into  the  corners 
by  the  steps  and  about  the  bare  corners  of  the 
building.  Give  room  for  the  children  to  play,  and 
make  the  place  a  picture  at  the  same  time.  Three 
or  four  trees  may  be  planted  near  the  building  to 
shade  it,  but  the  heaviest  planting  should  be  on  the 
sides. 

The  Kinds  of  Plants  for  the  Main  Planting  —  One 
great  principle  will  simplify  the  matter;  the  main 
planting  should  be  for  foliage  effects.  That  is, 
think  first  of  giving  the  place  a  heavy  border  mass. 
Flowers  are  mere  decorations. 

Select  those  trees  and  shrubs  which  are  the  com- 
monest, because  they  are  the  cheapest,  hardiest,  and 
most  likely  to  grow.  There  is  no  district  so  poor  and 
bare  that  enough  plants  cannot  be  secured,  without 


IMPROVEMENT   OF   GROUNDS       71 

money,  for  the  schoolyard.  You  will  find  them  in 
the  woods,  in  old  yards,  along  fences.  It  is  little 
matter  if  no  one  knows  their  names.  What  is  hand- 
somer than  a  tangled  fence-row? 

Scatter  in  a  few  trees  along  the  fence  and  about 
the  buildings.  Maples,  basswood,  elms,  ashes, 
buttonwood,  pepperidge,  oaks,  beeches,  birches, 
hickories,  poplars,  a  few  trees  of  pine  or  spruce  or 
hemlock  —  any  of  these  are  excellent.  If  the  country 
is  bleak,  a  rather  heavy  planting  of  evergreens  above 
the  border,  in  the  place  of  so  much  shrubbery,  is 
excellent. 

For  shrubs,  use  the  common  things  to  be  found 
in  the  woods  and  swales,  together  with  roots  which 
can  be  had  in  every  old  yard.  Willows,  osiers, 
witch-hazel,  dogwood,  wild  roses,  thorn  apples,  haws, 
elders,  sumac,  wild  honeysuckles  —  these  and  others 
can  be  found  in  every  school  district.  From  the 
farmyards  can  be  secured  snowballs,  spireas,  lilacs, 
forsythias,  mock-oranges,  roses,  snowberries,  bar- 
berries, flowering  currants,  honeysuckles,  and 
the  like. 

Vines  can  be  used  to  excellent  purpose  on  the 
outbuildings  or  on  the  school-house  itself.  The 
common  wild  Virginia  creeper  is  the  most  serviceable. 

Kinds  of  Plants  for  Decoration  —  Against  these 
heavy  borders  and  in  the  angles  about  the  building 
many  kinds  of  flowering  plants  can  be  grown.  The 
flowers  are  much  more  easily  cared  for  i|i  such 


72  ARBOR  DAY 

positions  than  they  are  in  the  middle  of  the  lawn, 
and  they  also  show  off  better.  Hollyhocks  are  very 
effective. 

More  than  one-third  of  all  public  schools  will 
probably  always  be  in  the  country.  They  will 
have  most  intimate  relations  with  rural  life.  We 
must  make  that  life  attractive  to  the  pupils.  In 
Europe  there  are  school  gardens,  and  similar  plans 
are  recommended  for  this  country.  It  is  certainly 
desirable  that  some  area  be  set  aside  for  the  actual 
cultivation  of  plants  by  the  children,  and  for  the  grow- 
ing of  specimens  to  be  used  in  the  schoolroom. 


HINTS  FOR  THE  FIRST  SCHOOL  GARDEN 

BY  EDITH  GOODYEAR   ALGER 

From  School  Gardens 

Begin  early  —  early  enough  to  stir  up  enthusi- 
asm before  it  is  time  to  stir  up  the  soil;  early  enough 
to  transplant  all  rubbish  from  the  school  grounds 
before  it  is  time  to  plant  seeds.. 

Have  the  children  decide  what  the  garden  is  to 
be,  and  here  is  a  wide  range;  it  may  be  a  little  orna- 
mental **posy  bed"  cared  for  by  all  the  children, 
a  wild  flower  and  fern  garden  of  plants  transplanted 
from  woods  and  fields,  a  flower  garden  in  which 
each  child  has  a  row,  or  a  flower  and  vegetable  gar- 
den divided  into  individual  plots.    The  individual 


HINTS  FOR  SCHOOL   GARDEN        73 

plot  plan  is  undoubtedly  to  be  preferred  wherever 
practicable,  and  there  are  few  village  or  rural  schools 
where  there  is  not  room  for  the  plot  system.  The 
individual  garden  arouses  a  personal  responsibility 
and  interest  invaluable  to  the  child.  The  plots 
should  be  small  —  good  results  can  be  obtained 
on  a  plot  two  feet  square.  Large  plots  which 
overtax  the  children  to  keep  in  perfect  condition 
often  prove  so  discouraging  that  they  are  neglected. 

Having  agreed  upon  the  type  of  garden,  the  loca- 
tion should  be  determined.  Lead  the  children  to 
study  carefully  the  conditions  of  sunshine  and 
shadow,  dryness  and  moisture,  etc.,  and  let  them 
decide  upon  the  best  place  for  the  garden,  and  why. 
The  garden  must  not  encroach  upon  the  playground 
too  much. 

When  these  points  are  settled,  decide  how  the 
space  chosen  for  the  garden  is  to  be  divided;  the 
number,  size,  and  position  of  the  beds;  number, 
size,  and  direction  of  the  walks,  etc.  All  actual 
measurements  and  calculations  should  be  made  by 
the  children,  and  plans  drawn  to  scale. 

Breaking  up  and  fertilizing  the  soil,  raking,  stak- 
ing out  beds  and  walks,  must  all  be  done  system- 
atically, with  a  reason  for  each  process. 

The  older  children  should  be  supplied  with  note- 
books in  which  to  keep  a  written  record  of  their 
work  in  the  garden. 

It  is  best  to  select  for  cultivation  in  the  first  school 


74  ARBOR  DAY 

garden  a  few  varieties  of  very  common  vegetables, 
and  hardy,  easily  grown  flowers.  Class-room  study 
of  the  seeds  and  instruction  regarding  planting 
should  be  given  before  planting  takes  place.  Some 
kinds  of  seeds  may  be  given  to  the  children  to  plant 
in  boxes  at  home  before  it  is  time  to  plant  out-of- 
doors,  and  the  seedlings  thus  secured  transplanted 
at  the  proper  time. 

Work  in  the  school  garden  should  be  conducted 
in  an  orderly,  intelligent  manner  —  the  children 
should  always  understand,  not  only  what  they  are 
doing,  but  also  just  why  it  has  to  be  done.  Avoid 
planting  so  much  land  or  so  many  kinds  of  seeds 
that  care  and  careful  study  cannot  be  given  to  the 
garden  and  all  it  contains. 

Remember  that  the  best  crop  to  be  gathered  from 
the  school  garden  is  the  live  interest  in  plant  life, 
and  the  love  of  wholesome,  useful  out-of-door  work 
gained  by  the  children. 


FOREST  CULTURE 

BY  HORACE    GREELEY 

Money  can  be  more  profitably  and  safely  invested 
in  lands  covered  by  young  timber  than  anything  else. 
The  parent  who  would  invest  a  few  thousand  for 
the  benefit  of  his  children  or  grandchildren,  while 
young,  may  buy  woodlands  which  will  be  worth 


FOREST  CULTURE  75 

twenty  times  their  present  cost  within  the  next  twenty 
years.  But  better  even  than  this  would  it  be  to  buy 
up  rocky,  craggy,  naked  hillsides,  and  eminences 
which  have  been  pastured  to  death,  and  shutting 
out  the  cattle  inflexibly,  scratch  these  over  with 
plow,  mattock,  hoe,  or  pick,  as  circumstances  shall 
dictate;  plant  them  thickly  with  chestnut,  walnut, 
hickory,  white  oak,  and  the  seeds  of  locust  and 
white  pine.  Plant  thickly  and  of  divers  kinds,  so 
as  to  cover  the  ground  promptly  and  choke  out 
weeds  and  shrubs,  with  full  purpose  to  thin  and 
prune  as  circumstances  shall  dictate.  Many  farmers 
are  averse  to  planting  timber  because  they  think 
nothing  can  be  realized  therefrom  for  the  next 
twenty  or  thirty  years,  which  is  as  long  as  they  expect 
to  live.  But  this  is  a  grave  miscalculation.  Let 
us  suppose  a  rocky,  hilly  pasture  lot  of  ten  or  twenty 
acres,  rudely  scratched  over  as  I  have  suggested, 
and  thickly  seeded  with  hickory  nuts  and  white  oak 
acorns  only.  Within  five  years  it  will  yield  abun- 
dantly of  hoop-poles,  though  the  better,  more  promis- 
ing half  be  left  to  mature,  as  they  should  be;  two 
years  later  another  and  larger  crop  of  hoop-poles 
may  be  cut,  still  sparing  the  best,  and  thenceforth 
a  valuable  crop  of  timber  may  be  taken  from  the 
land;  for  if  cut  at  the  proper  season  (October  to 
March),  at  least  two  thrifty  sprouts  will  start  from 
every  stump;  and  so  that  wood  will  yield  a  clear 
income  each  year,  while  the  best  trees  are  steadily 


76  ARBOR  DAY 

growing  and  maturing.  I  do  not  advise  restriction 
to  those  two  species  of  timber,  but  I  insist  that  a 
young  plantation  of  forest  trees  may  and  should 
yield  a  clear  income  in  every  year  after  its  fourth. 


CRIMINAL  TREATMENT  OF  TREES 

ANONYMOUS 

The  Rkv.  Mr.  Egleston  once  called  attention,  in 
a  forcible  and  sensible  way,  to  the  reckless  and  crim- 
inal treatment  of  our  forests  in  general  and  of  our 
good  friends  the  trees  in  particular.  His  simple 
statement  that  nothing  in  nature  except  a  man  is 
more  valuable  than  a  tree,  reminds  one  of  the  late 
Edward  Jaffray^s  judgment  that  only  killing  a  man 
was  worse  than  cutting  down  a  tree.  The  Laurel 
Hill  Association  seems  likely  to  become  foremost 
among  societies  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  trees. 
The  need  of  active  measures  to  defend  these  pre- 
servers of  our  springs,  these  guardians  of  our  rivers, 
these  shelterers  of  our  fields  and  gardens,  from 
wanton  outrage  and  careless,  thriftless  despoiling, 
is  forcing  itself  on  public  attention,  a  cry  of  protest 
that  gains  force  from  the  desolating  fires  among 
the  Western  pines,  and  the  miserable  pillage  of  our 
own  Adironack  preserves. 

Arbor  Day  in  the  public  schools  is  doing  some- 
thing toward  the  replenishing  of  treeless  regions, 


CRIMINAL  TREATMENT  OF  TREES  77 

restoring  forest  trees  to  their  former  habitation, 
and  also  toward  the  extermination  of  savagery 
toward  all  tree  growth  from  the  boys  of  this  gener- 
ation. Heredity  from  the  slayers  of  trees  in  their 
fight  with  the  primeval  woods,  will  require  heroic 
treatment.  A  boy  with  a  hatchet  is  still  a  desolator, 
and  with  an  axe  he  is  a  scourge  second  only  to  the 
forest  burner;  when  he  grows  to  manhood  his  greed 
is  proof  against  all  sentiment  or  suggestion  of 
remoter  consequences. 

For  centuries  now  the  matchless  forests  of  this 
country  have  been  faced  with  the  cry  of  "  Kill!  Kill!" 
There  has  been  no  mercy  and  no  recourse.  Slaugh- 
ter has  waged  unhindered  and  unrebuked.  Timber 
forests,  with  unlimited  supply  under  care  and  cul- 
ture, have  been  ruined.  The  waste  has  been  more 
than  the  product.  For  bark,  for  charcoal  and  fire- 
wood, for  fence  posts  and  railroad  ties,  for  lumber 
and  shingles,  for  spars  and  ship-timbers,  for  wooden- 
ware,  matches,  and  even  toothpicks,  the  woods  have 
been  flayed  alive.  We  have  wasted  our  inheritance 
until  the  resulting  shame  is  beginning  to  show. 
Forest  laws  that  are  sharp  and  usable  as  axes 
are  demanded.  The  ownership  of  woodland  must 
not  carry  the  right  to  abuse  it.  Lands  that  are 
important  water  preserves  should  be  protected  the 
same  as  public  reservoirs.  Private  ownership  which 
has  proved  detrimental  to  public  interests  should 
be  suppressed  by  public  purchases.    All  possible 


78  ARBOR  DAY 

restraints  must  be  put  on  the  marauders  and  incen- 
diaries of  the  woods.  For  toleration  of  this  criminal 
treatment  of  trees  has  reached  its  limit.  The  senti- 
ment of  our  people  is  ready  to  sustain  the  hand  of 
justice  in  the  defense  of  these  true  friends  of  man. 
And  this  correction  of  an  evil  will  prove  a  change 
of  heart  in  our  people.  The  freedom  and  needs  of 
our  civilization  have  in  this  particular  blunted  our 
sensibilities.  We  have  become  callous  to  some 
serious  affronts  and  wrongs.  A  whole  village  has 
been  known  to  stand  by,  while  a  century-old  tree, 
the  pride  and  beauty  of  a  street,  has  been  killed  to 
widen  a  road  or  to  make  room  for  some  petty 
building.  Such  outrages  have  been  perpetrated 
with  a  coolness  that  confessed  to  unconsciousness 
of  wrong.  The  remedy  for  such  things  is  education. 
Somebody  must  teach  our  people  the  rights  and  the 
dignity  of  a  tree.  They  know  its  money  value,  but 
there  is  something  more  they  need  to  know  and  to 
feel.  There  is  a  sanctity  in  natural  growth  which 
goes  up  to  the  sublimity  of  the  great  mountains. 
To  violate  this  is  to  degrade  ourselves.  To  despise 
or  to  degrade  the  splendid  things  about  us  is  to 
prove  ourselves  unworthy  of  them.  The  Palisades 
of  the  Hudson  can  be  made  a  signboard  or  a  stone 
quarry,  but  the  people  who  would  so  use  them,  or 
who  would  suffer  such  desecration  of  them,  would 
sink  as  low  in  the  scale  of  man  as  they  would  fall  in 
the  esteem  of  the  world.    This  world  is  something 


THE  A  B  C  OF  GARDENING  79 

more  than  a  workshop.  And  a  sin  against  the  sanctity 
of  any  created  thing  is  a  sin  against  our  own  souls. 


KNOW  THE  TREES 

BY  AUSTIN  C.  APGAR 

Arbor  Day,  when  in  all  the  schools  we  are  talk- 
ing and  singing  about  the  beauties  of  nature  in  all 
her  forms,  and  especially  about  the  grandeur,  the 
stateliness,  and  the  usefulness  of  the  trees,  is  a  good 
time  for  us  to  resolve  to  know  the  different  kinds  of 
trees  in  our  neighborhood.  No  one  can  appreciate 
much  without  knowing  much.  First,  we  must  know 
trees  by  name,  and,  gradually,  we  will  learn  to  know 
many  interesting  things  about  each  in  regard  to  the 
time  when  the  buds  burst  in  the  spring,  when  the 
blossoms  are  to  be  found,  when  the  fruit  is  ripe, 
when  the  leaves  fall,  all  the  changes  in  color  of  foliage 
that  take  place  during  the  year,  and  many  other 
characteristics.  ''The  day  we  first  know  a  tree  by 
name  will  be  the  day  when  our  interest  and  enjoy- 
ment in  that  tree  will  begin." 


THE  A  B  C  OF  LANDSCAPE  GARDENING 

Anonymous 

(a)  Keep  lawn  centers  open. 

(b)  Plant  in  masses. 

(c)  Avoid  straight  lines. 


8o  ARBOR  DAY 

Remove  the  rickety  fences;  tear  down  the  dilapi- 
dated buildings  and  sheds;  send  the  tin  cans,  broken 
boxes,  and  cinder  piles  the  way  of  all  useless  things; 
clear  the  yards;  in  the  place  of  the  aforetime  rub- 
bish, grow  things.  This  idea  means  good  taste,  at 
home  as  well  as  at  school;  neat  lawns,  whether  the 
premises  be  large  or  small;  clean  roads;  clean  streets; 
clean  alleys;  the  abatement  of  nuisances;  the  eleva- 
tion of  farm  as  well  as  of  city  life;  the  cultivation 
of  interest  in  the  moral,  intellectual,  and  physical 
welfare  of  the  community;  and  the  creation  of  enthu- 
siasm and  love  for  the  beautiful  and  the  good. 


DO 


Make  your  street  and  yard  in  front  and  rear  as 
clean  and  attractive  as  possible. 
Destroy  weeds. 
Burn  or  bury  rubbish. 
Pick  up  loose  paper. 
Plant  shrubs,  vines,  and  flower  seeds. 


DON'T 


Throw  paper  and  fruit-skins  on  to  the  sidewalk, 
when  baskets  or  boxes  are  near  at  hand. 
Mark  walls  of  buildings. 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR  OBSERVANCE;    8i 

Injure  shade  trees  or  flower  beds. 
Spit  on  floors  and  sidewalks. 
Throw  stones  at  birds,  for  they  destroy   worms 
and  insects  and  aid  in  making  the  town  beautiful. 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ARBOR  DAY 
OBSERVANCE 

BY  ALFRED  STONE 

Arbor  Day  had  its  origin  with  a  view  to  creating 
a  community  of  interest  and  active  cooperation  in 
the  work  of  annual  tree-planting  on  a  day  set  aside 
for  that  specific  purpose,  with  a  prearranged  plan 
of  where  to  plant  them  and  what  trees  should  be 
planted.  In  this  way  it  was  hoped  that  treeless 
streets  and  barren  commons  would  be  transformed 
and  beautified,  that  unattractive  towns  would 
be  made  attractive,  and  waste  places  would  be 
redeemed. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  its  original  purpose  may  be 
revived  and  that  the  day  may  be  again  devoted  to 
actual  tree-planting  in  every  hamlet,  village,  town, 
and  city  in  the  state. 

Let  the  citizens  get  together  in  meetings  of  such 
societies  as  are  already  formed  under  whatever 
name  they  may  be  called  —  village  improvement 
societies,  men's  clubs,  women's  clubs,  boys'  clubs, 
St.  Andrew's  societies,  church  clubs,  it  matters  not 


82  ARBOR  DAY 

which,  but  in  some  way  get  together  —  appoint 
committees  and  accomplish  something  worth  while  in 
the  way  of  tree-planting. 
At  this  meeting  appoint  at  least  six  committees. 

1.  To  select  the  place    or    places    where    the 

planting  of  trees  is  most  demanded  and 
where  they  will  do  the  greatest  good  to  the 
greatest  number,  and  have  stakes  driven 
where  each  tree  is  to  be  planted. 

2.  To  cooperate  with  committee  number  one, 

determine  the  number  and  kind  of  trees 
that  are  wanted,  select  and  purchase  them 
in  ample  season  to  be  delivered  and  heeled 
in  readiness  for  planting,  and  to  distribute 
them  on  Arbor  Day. 

3.  To  raise  the  funds  to  pay  for  the  trees,  digging 

the  holes,  and  procuring  proper  earth  in 
which  to  plant  them,  assessing  those  whose 
estates  are  to  be  directly  benefited  in  accord- 
ance with  the  benefit  they  will  receive  and 
their  ability  to  pay,  and  collecting  from  the 
community  at  large  enough  to  make  up 
the  deficit. 

4.  To  arrange  for  digging  the  holes  of  the  right 

size  and  depth,  and  procuring  proper 
earth  in  which  to  plant  the  trees  if    the 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR  OBSERVANCE     S^ 

soil  where  they  are  to  be  planted  is  not 
fit  for  the  purpose.  In  many  communities 
the  holes  would  have  to  be  dug  and  the 
piles  of  earth  deposited  near  so  that  tree- 
planting  alone  should  be  the  work  for 
Arbor  Day.  In  other  communities,  especi- 
ally in  farming  communities,  all  of  the  work 
might  be  done  on  Arbor  Day. 

5.  To  procure  a  luncheon  to  be  given  in  some 

grove,  hall,  school-house,  church  or  vestry, 
and  listen  to  the  reports  of  the  committees 
showing  what  had  been  done,  and  out- 
lining a  plan  for  next  year's  Arbor  Day; 
to  be  followed  by  addresses,  reading  of 
poetry,  music,  and  singing  of  songs  appro- 
priate to  the  occasion. 

6.  To  arrange  a  programme  for  the  after-dinner 

exercises,  as  indicated  above.  And  it  is 
recommended  that  the  addresses  be  of  a 
practical  kind,  on  such  subjects  as:  The 
benefits  of  arboriculture;  What  trees  to 
plant  in  different  locations  according  to  soil, 
environment,  wind  and  ocean  exposure; 
How  to  prepare  trees  for  transplanting, 
care  of  them  in  transportation,  and  how 
to  plant  them  and  care  for  them  after 
planting. 


IV 
THE  SEASON 


PIPPA^S  SONG 

BY  ROBERT  BROWNING 

From  Pippa  Passes 

The  year's  at  the  spring 
And  day's  at  the  morn; 
Morning's  at  seven; 
The  hillside's  dew-pearled; 
The  lark's  on  the  wing; 
The  snail's  on  the  thorn; 
God's  in  His  heaven  — 
All's  right  with  the  world! 


HOME  THOUGHTS  FROM  ABROAD 

BY  ROBERT  BROWNING 
I 

Oh,  to  be  in  England  now  that  April's  there! 
And  whoever  wakes  in  England  sees,  some  morning, 

unaware. 
That  the  lowest  boughs  and  the  brushwood  sheaf 
Round  the  elm-tree  bole  are  in  tiny  leaf. 
While  the  chafl&nch  sings  on  the  orchard  bough 
In  England  —  now! 

87 


88  ARBOR  DAY 

II 

And  after  April,  when  May  follows, 
And  the  white  throat  builds,  and  all  the  swallows! 
Hark,  where  my  blossomed  pear-tree  in  the  hedge 
Leans  to  the  field  and  scatters  on  the  clover 
Blossoms    and   dewdrops  —  at  the  bent   spray's 

edge  — 
That's  the  wise  thrush;  he  sings  each  song  twice 

over, 
Lest  you  should  think  he  never  could  recapture 
The  first  fine  careless  rapture! 
And  though  the  fields  look  rough  with  hoary  dew, 
All  will  be  gay  when  noontide  wakes  anew 
The  buttercups,  the  little  children's  dower 
— Far  brighter  than  this  gaudy  melon-flower! 


THE  WISTFUL  DAYS* 

BY  ROBERT  UNDERWOOD  JOHNSON 

What  is  there  wanting  in  the  Spring? 

The  air  is  soft  as  yesteryear; 

The  happy-nested  green  is  here. 
And  half  the  world  is  on  the  wing. 

The  morning  beckons,  and  like  balm 

Are  westward  waters  blue  and  calm. 
Yet  something's  wanting  in  the  Spring. 


*  By  permission  of  the  Century  Co.,  New  York. 


SPRING  89 

What  is  it  wanting  in  the  Spring? 
O  April,  lover  to  us  all, 
What  is  so  poignant  in  thy  thrall 

When  children's  merry  voices  ring? 
What  haunts  us  in  the  cooing  dove 
More  subtle  than  the  speech  of  Love, 

What  nameless  lack  or  loss  of  Spring  ? 

Let  Youth  go  dally  with  the  Spring, 
Call  her  the  dear,  the  fair,  the  young; 
And  all  her  graces  ever  sung 

Let  him,  once  more  rehearsing,  sing. 
They  know,  who  keep  a  broken  tryst. 
Till  something  from  the  Spring  be  missed 

We  have  not  truly  known  the  Spring. 


SPRING 

BY  ALFRED  TENNYSON 

From  In  Memoriam 
Now  fades  the  last  long  streak  of  snow, 
Now  burgeons  every  maze  of  quick 
About  the  flowering  squares,  and  thick 
By  ashen  roots  the  violets  blow. 

Now  rings  the  woodland  loud  and  long, 
The  distance  takes  a  lovelier  hue, 
And  drowned  in  yonder  living  blue 

The  lark  becomes  a  sightless  song. 


90  ARBOR  DAY 

Now  dance  the  lights  on  lawn  and  lea, 
The  flocks  are  whiter  down  the  vale, 
And  milkier  every  milky  sail 

On  winding  stream  or  distant  sea; 

Where  now  the  seamew  pipes,  or  dives 
In  yonder  greening  gleam,  and  fly 
The  happy  birds,  that  change  their  sky 

To  build  and  brood;  that  live  their  lives 

From  land  to  land;  and  in  my  breast 
Spring  wakens  too;    and  my  regret 
Becomes  an  April  violet, 

And  buds  and  blossoms  like  the  rest. 


FROM 

GOD  OF  THE  OPEN  AIR* 

BY    HENRY    VAN    DYKE 

While  the  tremulous  leafy  haze  on  the  woodland 

is  spreading, 
And  the  bloom  on  the  meadow  betrays  where  May 

has  been  treading; 
While  the  birds  on  the  branches  above,  and  the 

brooks  flowing  imder, 
Are  singing  together  of  love  in  a  world  full  of  wonder, 

*  From  "  Music  and  Other  Poems,"  copyright,  1904,  by  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons. 


NEWS   OF  SPRING  91 

(Lo,  in  the  marvel  of  Springtime,  dreams  are  changed 

into  truth!) 
Quicken  my  heart,  and  restore  the  beautiful  hopes  of 

youth. 

By  the  faith  that  the  flowers  show  when  they  bloom 
unbidden, 

By  the  calm  of  the  river's  flow  to  a  goal  that  is 
hidden, 

By  the  trust  of  the  tree  that  clings  to  its  deep  founda- 
tion, 

By  the  courage  of  wild  birds'  wings  on  the  long 
migration, 

(Wonderful  secret  of  peace  that  abides  in  Nature's 
breast!) 

Teach  me  how  to  confide,  and  live  my  life,  and  rest. 


NEWS  OF  SPRING* 

BY  MAURICE  MAETERLINCK 

From  Old  Fashioned  Flowers 

I  HAVE  seen  the  manner  in  which  Spring  stores  up 

simshine,  leaves  and  flowers  and  makes  ready,  long 

beforehand,  to  invade  the  North.     Here,  on  the 

ever   balmy   shores   of   the   Mediterranean  —  that 

motionless  sea  which  looks  as  though  it  were  under 

glass  —  where,  while  the  months  are  dark  in  the  rest 

*  By  special  permission  of  M.  Maeterlinck  and  Dodd,  Mead 
&Co. 


92  ARBOR  DAY 

of  Europe,  Spring  has  taken  shelter  from  the  wind 
and  the  snows  in  a  palace  of  peace  and  light  and 
love,  it  is  interesting  to  detect  its  preparations  for 
traveling  in  the  fields  of  undying  green.  I  can  see 
clearly  that  it  is  afraid,  that  it  hesitates  once  more  to 
face  the  great  frost-traps  which  February  and  March 
lay  for  it  annually  beyond  the  mountains.  It  waits, 
it  dallies,  it  tries  its  strength  before  resuming  the 
harsh  and  cruel  way  which  the  hypocrite  winter 
seems  to  yield  to  it.  It  stops,  sets  out  again,  revisits 
a  thousand  times,  like  a  child  running  round  the 
garden  of  its  holidays,  the  fragrant  valleys,  the  tender 
hills  which  the  frost  has  never  brushed  with  its  wings. 
It  has  nothing  to  do  here,  nothing  to  revive,  since 
nothing  has  perished  and  nothing  suffered,  since  all 
the  flowers  of  every  season  bathe  here  in  the  blue 
air  of  an  eternal  summer.  But  it  seeks  pretexts,  it 
lingers,  it  loiters,  it  goes  to  and  fro  like  an  unoccupied 
gardener.  It  pushes  aside  the  branches,  fondles 
with  its  breath  the  olive-tree  that  quivers  with  a 
silver  smile,  polishes  the  glossy  grass,  rouses  the 
corollas  that  were  not  asleep,  recalls  the  birds  that 
had  never  fled,  encourages  the  bees  that  were  workers 
without  ceasing;  and  then,  seeing,  like  God,  that  all 
is  well  in  the  spotless  Eden,  it  rests  for  a  moment  on 
the  ledge  of  a  terrace  which  the  orange-tree  crowns 
with  regular  flowers  and  with  fruits  of  light,  and, 
before  leaving,  casts  a  last  look  over  its  labor  ol 
joy  and  entrusts  it  to  the  sun. 


SPRING  93 

SPRING* 

BY  RICHARD   HOVEY 

I  SAID  in  my  heart,  "I  am  sick  of  four  walls  and  a 

ceiling. 
I  have  need  of  the  sky. 
I  have  business  with  the  grass. 
I  will  up  and  get  me  away  where   the   hawk   is 

wheeling, 
Lone  and  high. 
And  the  slow  clouds  go  by. 
I  will  get  me  away  to  the  waters  that  glass 
The  clouds  as  they  pass, 
To  the  waters  that  lie 
Like  the  heart  of  a  maiden  aware  of  a  doom  drawing 

nigh 
And  dumb  for  sorcery  of  impending  joy. 
I  will  get  me  away  to  the  woods. 
Spring,  like  a  huntsman's  boy, 
Halloos  along  the  hillsides  and  unhoods 
The  falcon  in  my  will. 
The  dogwood  calls  me,  and  the  sudden  thrill 
That  breaks  in  apple  blooms  down  country  roads 
Plucks  me  by  the  sleeve  and  nudges  me  away. 
The  sap  is  in  the  boles  to-day, 
And  in  my  veins  a  pulse  that  yearns  and  goads." 

*  From  "Along  the  Trail,"  copyright   by  Small,  Maynard  & 
Co.   Used  by  permission  of  the  present  publishers,  Duffield  &  Co. 


94  ARBOR  DAY 

When,  I  got  to  the  woods,  I  found  out 

What  the  Spring  was  about, 

With  her  gypsy  ways 

And  her  heart  ablaze, 

Coming  up  from  the  south 

With  the  wander-lure  of  witch  songs  in  her  mouth. 

For  the  sky 

Stirred  and  grew  soft  and  swimming  as  a  lover's 

eye 
As  she  went  by; 
The  air 

Made  love  to  all  it  touched,  as  if  its  care 
Were  all  to  spare; 
The  earth 

Prickled  with  lust  of  birth; 
The  woodland  streams 

Babbled  the  incoherence  of  the  thousand  dreams 
Wherewith  the  warm  sun  teems. 
And  out  of  the  frieze 
Of  the  chestnut  trees 
I  heard 
The  sky  and  the  fields  and  the  thicket  find  a  voice 

in  a  bird. 


Spring  in  the  world! 

And  all  things  are  made  new! 

There  was  never  a  mote  that  whirled 

In  the  nebular  morn, 

There  was  never  a  brook  that  purled 


SPRING  95 

When  the  hills  were  born, 
There  was  never  a  leaf  uncurled  — 
Not  the  first  that  grew  — 
Nor  a  bee-flight  hurled, 
Nor  a  bird-note  skirled. 
Nor  a  cloud-wisp  swirled 
In  the  depth  of  the  blue, 

More    alive    and    afresh    and    impromptu,    more 
thoughtless  and  certain  and  free. 

In  the  re-wrought  sphere 

Of  the  new-born  year  — 

Now,  now, 

When  the  greenlet  sings  on  the  red-bud  bough 

Where  the  blossoms  are  whispering,  "  I  and  thou,"  — 

"I  and  thou," 

And  a  lass  at  the  turn  looks  after  her  lad  with  a  dawn 

on  her  brow, 
And  the  world  is  just  made  —  now! 

Spring  in  the  heart! 

With  her  pinks  and  pearls  and  yellows! 

Spring,  fellows. 

And  we  too  feel  the  little  green  leaves  a-start 

Across  the  bare-twigged  winter  of  the  mart. 

The  campus  is  reborn  in  us  to-day; 

The  old  grip  stirs  our  hearts  with  new-old  joy; 

Again  bursts  bonds  for  madcap  holiday 

The  eternal  boy. 


96  ARBOR  DAY 

For  we  have  not  come  here  for  long  debate 
Nor  taking  counsel  for  our  household  order, 
Howe'er  we  make  a  feint  of  serious  things,  — 
For  all  the  world  as  in  affairs  of  state 
A  word  goes  out  for  war  along  the  border 
To  further  or  defeat  the  loves  of  kings. 
We  put  our  house  to  rights  from  year  to  year^ 
But  that  is  not  the  call  that  brings  us  here; 
We  have  come  here  to  be  glad. 

A  road  runs  east  and  a  road  rims  west 
From  the  table  where  we  sing; 
And  the  lure  of  the  one  is  a  roving  quest, 
And  the  lure  of  the  other  a  lotus  dream. 
And  the  eastward  road  leads  into  the  West 
Of  the  lifelong  chase  of  the  vanishing  gleam; 
And  the  westward  road  leads  into  the  East, 
Where  the  spirit  from  striving  is  released, 
Where  the  soul  like  a  child  in  God's  arms  lies 
And  forgets  the  lure  of  the  butterflies. 
And  west  is  east,  if  you  follow  the  trail  to  the  end; 
And  east  is  west,  if  you  follow  the  trail  to  the  end; 
And  the  East  and  the  West  in  the  spring  of  the  world 
shall  blend. 

As  a  man  and  a  woman  that  plight 
Their  troth  in  the  warm  spring  night. 
And  the  spring  for  the  East  is  the  sap  in  the  heart 
of  a  tree: 


SPRING  97 

And  the  spring  for  the  West  is  the  will  in  the  wings 

of  a  bird; 
But  the  spring  for  the  East  and  the  West   alike 

shall  be 
An  urge  in  their  bones  and  an  ache  in  their  spirit, 

a  word 
That  shall  knit  them  in  one  for  Time's  foison,  once 

they  have  heard. 

So  we  are  somehow  sure, 

By  this  dumb  turmoil  in  the  soul  of  man, 

Of  an  impending  something.     When  the  stress 

Climbs  to  fruition,  we  can  only  guess 

What  many-seeded  harvest  we  shall  scan; 

But  from  one  impulse,  like  a  northering  sun, 

The  innumerable  outburst  is  begun. 

And  in  that  common  sunlight  all  men  know 

A  common  ecstasy 

Arid  feel  themselves  at  one. 

The  comradeship  of  joy  and  mystery 

Thrills  us  more  vitally  as  we  arouse. 

And  we  shall  find  our  new  day  intimate 

Beyond  the  guess  of  any  long  ago. 

Doubting  or  elate, 

With  agony  or  triumph  on  our  brows, 

We  shall  not  fail  to  be 

Better  comrades  than  before; 

For  no  new  sense  puts  forth  in  us  but  we 

Enter  our  fellows'  lives  thereby  the  more. 


98  ARBOR  DAY 

And  three  great  spirits  with  the  spirit  of  man 

Go  forth  to  do  his  bidding.     One  is  free, 

And  one  is  shackled,  and  the  third,  unbound, 

Halts  yet  a  little  with  a  broken  chain 

Of  antique  workmanship,  not  wholly  loosed. 

That  dangles  and  impedes  his  forthright  way. 

Unfettered,  swift,  hawk-eyed,  implacable, 

The  wonder-worker.  Science,  with  his  wand, 

Subdues  an  alien  world  to  man^s  desires. 

And  Art  with  wide  imaginative,  wings 

Stands  by,  alert  for  flight,  to  bear  his  lord 

Into  the  strange  heart  of  that  alien  world 

Till  he  shall  live  in  it  as  in  himself 

And  know  its  longing  as  he  knows  his  own. 

Behind  a  little,  where  the  shadows  fall, 

Lingers  Religion  with  deep-brooding  eyes. 

Serene,  impenetrable,  transpicuous 

As  the  all-clear  and  all-mysterious  sky. 

Biding  her  time  to  fuse  into  one  act 

Those  other  twain,  man's  right  hand  and  his  left. 

For  all  the  bonds  shall  be  broken  and  rent  in  sunder, 

And  the  soul  of  man  go  free 

Forth  with  those  three 

Into  the  lands  of  wonder; 

Like  some  undaunted  youth, 

Afield  in  quest  of  truth. 

Rejoicing  in  the  road  he  journeys  on 

As  much  as  in  the  hope  of  journey  done. 


APRIL  99 

And  the  road  runs  east,  and  the  road  runs  west, 

That  his  vagrant  feet  explore; 

And  he  knows  no  haste  and  he  knows  no  rest, 

And  every  mile  has  a  stranger  zest 

Than  the  miles  he  trod  before; 

And  his  heart  leaps  high  in  the  nascent  year, 

When  he  sees  the  purple  buds  appear: 

For  he  knows,  though  the  great  black  frost  may  blight 

The  hope  of  May  in  a  single  night. 

That  the  spring,  though  it  shrink  back  under  the  bark 

But  bides  its  time  somewhere  in  the  dark  — 

Though  it  comes  not  now  to  its  blossoming, 

By  the  thrill  in  his  heart  he  knows  the  spring; 

And  the  promise  it  makes  perchance  too  soon, 

It  shall  keep  with  its  roses  yet  in  June; 

For  the  ages  fret  not  over  a  day, 

And  the  greater  to-morrow  is  on  its  way. 


APRIL* 

BY  JOIIN  BURROUGHS 

From  A  Year  in  the  Fields 
If  we  represent  the  winter  of  our  northern  climate 
by  a  rugged  snow-clad  mountain,  and  summer  by 
a  broad  fertile  plain,  then  the  intermediate  belt, 
the  hilly  and  breezy  uplands,  will  stand  for  spring, 
with  March  reaching  well  up  into  the  region  of  the 

*  By  special  permission  of  Houghton,  MiflSin  &  Co. 


loo  ARBOR  DAY 

snows,  and  April  lapping  well  down  upon  the  green- 
ing fields  and  unloosened  currents,  not  beyond  the 
limits  of  winter's  sallying  storms,  but  well  within 
the  vernal  zone  —  within  the  reach  of  the  warm 
breath  and  subtle,  quickening  influences  of  the  plain 
below.  At  its  best,  April  is  the  tenderest  of  tender 
salads  made  crisp  by  ice  or  snow  water.  Its  type 
is  the  first  spear  of  grass.  The  senses  —  sight, 
hearing,  smell  —  are  as  hungry  for  its  delicate  and 
almost  spiritual  tokens  as  the  cattle  are  for  the  first 
bite  of  its  fields.  How  it  touches  one  and  makes 
him  both  glad  and  sad!  The  voices  of  the  arriving 
birds,  the  migrating  fowls,  the  clouds  of  pigeons 
sweeping  across  the  sky  or  filling  the  woods,  the  elfin 
horn  of  the  first  honey-bee  venturing  abroad  in  the 
middle  of  the  day,  the  clear  piping  of  the  little  frogs 
in  the  marshes  at  sundown,  the  camp-fire  in  the 
sugar-bush,  the  smoke  seen  afar  rising  over  the  trees, 
the  tinge  of  green  that  comes  so  suddenly  on  the 
sunny  knolls  and  slopes,  the  full  translucent  streams, 
the  waxing  and  warming  sun  —  how  these  things 
and  others  like  them  are  noted  by  the  eager  eye  and 
ear !  April  is  my  natal  month,  and  I  am  born  again 
into  new  delight  and  new  surprises  at  each  return  of 
it.  Its  name  has  an  indescribable  charm  to  me. 
Its  two  syllables  are  like  the  calls  of  the  first  birds  — 
like  that  of  the  phcebe-bird,  or  the  meadow-lark. 
Its  very  snows  are  fertilizing,  and  are  called  the  poor 
man's  manure. 


APRIL  loi 

Then  its  odors!  I  am  thrilled  by  its  fresh  and 
indescribable  odors  —  the  perfume  of  the  bursting 
sod,  of  the  quickened  roots  and  rootlets,  of  the  mold 
under  the  leaves,  of  the  fresh  furrows.  No  other 
month  has  odors  like  it.  The  west  wind  the  other 
day  came  fraught  with  a  perfume  that  was  to  the 
sense  of  smell  what  a  wild  and  delicate  strain  of 
music  is  to  the  ear.  It  was  almost  transcendental. 
I  walked  across  the  hill  with  my  nose  in  the  air  taking 
it  in.  It  lasted  for  two  days.  I  imagined  it  came 
from  the  willows  of  a  distant  swamp,  whose  catkins 
were  affording  the  bees  their  first  pollen;  or  did  it 
come  from  much  farther  —  from  beyond  the  horizon, 
the  accumulated  breath  of  innumerable  farms  and 
budding  forests  ?  The  main  characteristic  of  these 
April  odors  is  their  uncloying  freshness.  They  are 
not  sweet,  they  are  oftener  bitter,  they  are  penetrat- 
ing and  lyrical.  I  know  well  the  odors  of  May 
and  June,  of  the  world  of  meadows  and  orchards 
bursting  into  bloom,  but  they  are  not  so  ineffable 
and  immaterial  and  so  stimulating  to  the  sense  as  the 
incense  of  April. 

The  April  of  English  literature  corresponds  nearly 
to  our  May.  In  Great  Britain  the  swallow  and  the 
cuckoo  usually  arrive  by  the  middle  of  April;  with 
us  their  appearance  is  a  week  or  two  later.  Our 
April,  at  its  best,  is  a  bright,  laughing  face  under  a 
hood  of  snow,  like  the  English  March,  but  presenting 


I02  ARBOR  DAY 

sharper  contrasts,  a  greater  mixture  of  smiles  and 
tears  and  icy  looks  than  are  known  to  our  ancestral 
climate.  Indeed,  Winter  sometimes  retraces  his 
steps  in  this  month,  and  unburdens  himself  of  the 
snows  that  the  previous  cold  has  kept  back;  but  we 
are  always  sure  of  a  number  of  radiant,  equable 
days  —  days  that  go  before  the  bud,  when  the  sun 
embraces  the  earth  with  fervor  and  determination. 
How  his  beams  pour  into  the  woods  till  the  mold 
under  the  leaves  is  warm  and  emits  an  odorl 
The  waters  glint  and  sparkle,  the  birds  gather  in 
groups,  and  even  those  unwont  to  sing  find  a  voice. 
On  the  streets  of  the  cities,  what  a  flutter,  what 
bright  looks  and  gay  colors!  I  recall  one  pre- 
eminent day  of  this  kind  last  April.  I  made  a  note 
of  it  in  my  notebook.  The  earth  seemed  suddenly 
to  emerge  from  a  wilderness  of  clouds  and  chilliness 
into  one  of  these  blue  sunlit  spaces.  How  the 
voyagers  rejoiced!  Invalids  came  forth,  old  men 
sauntered  down  the  street,  stocks  went  up,  and  the 
political  outlook  brightened. 

Such  days  bring  out  the  last  of  the  hibernating 
animals.  The  woodchuck  unrolls  and  creeps  out 
of  his  den  to  see  if  his  clover  has  started  yet.  The 
torpidity  leaves  the  snakes  and  the  turtles,  and  they 
come  forth  and  bask  in  the  sun.  There  is  nothing 
so  small,  nothing  so  great,  that  it  does  not  respond 
to  these  celestial  spring  days,  and  give  the  pendulum 
of  life  a  fresh  start. 


APRIL  103 

April  is  also  the  month  of  the  new  furrow.  As 
soon  as  the  frost  is  gone  and  the  ground  settled,  the 
plow  is  started  upon  the  hill,  and  at  each  bout  I  see 
its  brightened  mold-board  flash  in  the  sun.  Where 
the  last  remnants  of  the  snowdrift  lingered  yesterday 
the  plow  breaks  the  sod  to-day.  Where  the  drift 
was  deepest  the  grass  is  pressed  fiat,  and  there  is  a 
deposit  of  sand  and  earth  blown  from  the  fields  to 
windward.  Line  upon  line  the  turf  is  reversed,  until 
there  stands  out  of  the  neutral  landscape  a  ruddy 
square  visible  for  miles,  or  until  the  breasts  of  the 
broad  hills  glow  like  the  breasts  of  the  robins. 

Then  who  would  not  have  a  garden  in  April? 
to  rake  together  the  rubbish  and  bum  it  up,  to  turn 
over  the  renewed  soil,  to  scatter  the  rich  compost, 
to  plant  the  first  seed  or  bury  the  first  tuber!  It 
is  not  the  seed  that  is  planted,  any  more  than  it  is 
I  that  is  planted;  it  is  not  the  dry  stalks  and  weeds 
that  are  burned  up,  any  more  than  it  is  my  gloom 
and  regrets  that  are  consumed.  An  April  smoke 
makes  a  clean  harvest, 

I  think  April  is  the  best  month  to  be  bom  in.  One 
is  just  in  time,  so  to  speak,  to  catch  the  first  train, 
which  is  made  up  in  this  month.  My  April  chickens 
always  tum  out  best.  They  get  an  early  start; 
they  have  rugged  constitutions.  Late  chickens  can- 
not stand  the  heavy  dews,  or  withstand  the  preda- 
ceous  hawks.  In  April  all  nature  starts  with  you. 
You  have  not  come  out  your  hibernaculum  too  early 


104  ARBOR  DAY 

or  too  late;  the  time  is  ripe,  and,  if  you  do  not  keep 
pace  with  the  rest,  why,  the  fault  is  not  in  the  season. 


APRIL 

BY  HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW 

When  the  warm  sun,  that  brings 

Seed-time  and  harvest,  has  returned  again, 

'Tis  sweet  to  visit  the  still  wood,  where  springs 
The  first  flower  of  the  plain. 

I  love  the  season  well, 

When  forest  glades  are  teeming  with  bright  forms, 
Nor  dark  and  many-folded  clouds  foretell 

The  coming-in  of  storms. 

From  the  earth's  loosened  mold 

The  sapling  draws  its  sustenance,  and  thrives: 
Though  stricken  to  the  heart  with  winter's  cold, 

The  drooping  tree  revives. 

The  softly  warbled  song 

Comes  through  the  pleasant  woods,  and  colored 
wings 
Are  glancing  in  the  golden  sun,  along 

The  forest  openings. 

And  when  bright  sunset  fills 

The  silver  woods  with  light,  the  green  slope  throws 
Its  shadow  in  the  hollows  of  the  hills, 

And  wide  the  upland  glows. 


THE  COMING  OF  SPRING  105 

And  when  the  day  is  gone, 

In  the  blue  lake,  the  sky,  o'erreaching  far, 
Is  hollowed  out,  and  the  moon  dips  her  horn, 

And  twinkles  many  a  star. 

Inverted  in  the  tide 

Stand  the  gray  rocks,  and  trembling  shadows 
throw. 
And  the  fair  trees  look  over,  side  by  side, 

And  see  themselves  below. 

Sweet  April,  many  a  thought 

Is  wedded  unto  thee,  as  hearts  are  wed; 
Nor  shall  they  fail,  till,  to  its  autumn  brought, 

Life's  golden  fruit  is  shed. 


THE  COMING  OF  SPRING 

BY  HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN 

It  was  far  in  January,  and  all  day  the  snow  was 
pelting  down,  but  toward  evening  it  grew  calm. 
The  sky  looked  as  if  it  had  been  swept,  and  had 
become  more  lofty  and  transparent.  The  stars 
looked  as  if  they  were  quite  new,  and  some  of  them 
were  amazingly  bright  and  pure.  It  froze  so  hard 
that  the  snow  creaked,  and  the  upper  rind  of  snow 
might  well  have  grown  hard  enough  to  bear  the 
sparrows  in  the  morning  dawn.  These  little  birds 
hopped  up   and   down  where  the  sweeping  had 


io6  ARBOR  DAY 

been  done;  but  they  found  very  little  food,  and  were 
not  a  little  cold. 

"Piep!"  said  one  of  them  to  another;  "they  call 
this  a  new  year,  and  it  is  worse  than  the  last!  We 
might  just  as  well  have  kept  the  old  one.  I'm 
dissatisfied,  and  I've  a  right  to  be  so." 

"Yes;  and  the  people  ran  about  and  fired  off 
shots  to  celebrate  the  new  year,"  said  a  little  shivering 
sparrow;  "and  they  threw  pans  and  pots  against 
the  doors,  and  were  quite  boisterous  with  joy,  because 
the  old  year  was  gone.  I  was  glad  of  it  too,  because 
I  hoped  we  should  have  had  warm  days;  but  that 
has  come  to  nothing  —  it  freezes  much  harder  than 
before.  People  have  made  a  mistake  in  reckoning 
the  time!" 

"That  they  have!"  a  third  put  in,  who  was  old, 
and  had  a  white  poll;  "they've  something  they  call 
the  calendar  —  it's  an  invention  of  their  own  — 
and  everything  is  to  be  arranged  according  to  that; 
but  it  won't  do.  When  Spring  comes,  then  the  year 
begins,  and  I  reckon  according  to  that." 

"  But  when  will  Spring  come  ?"  the  others  inquired. 

"It  will  come  when  the  stork  comes  back.  But 
his  movements  are  very  uncertain,  and  here  in  towns 
no  one  knows  anything  about  it;  in  the  country  they 
are  better  informed.  Shall  we  fly  out  there  and  wait  ? 
There,  at  any  rate,  we  shall  be  nearer  to  Spring." 

And  away  they  flew. 

Out  in  the  country  it  was  hard  Winter,  the  snow 


THE  COMING   OF  SPRING  107 

creaked,  and  the  sparrows  hopped  about  in  the  ruts, 
and  shivered.  "Piep!  when  will  Spring  come? 
it  is  very  long  in  coming!" 

"Very  long,"  sounded  from  the  snow-covered  hill, 
far  over  the  field.  It  might  be  the  echo  which  was 
heard;  or  perhaps  the  words  were  spoken  by  yonder 
wonderful  old  man,  who  sat  in  wind  and  weather 
high  on  a  heap  of  snow. 

*^Who  is  that  old  man  yonder?"  asked  the 
sparrows. 

"I  know  who  he  is,"  quoth  an  old  raven,  who  sat 
on  the  fence-rail.  "It  is  Winter,  the  old  man  of  last 
year.  He  is  not  dead,  as  the  calendar  says,  but  is 
guardian  to  little  Prince  Spring,  who  is  to  come. 
Yes,  Winter  bears  sway  here.  Ugh!  the  cold  makes 
you  shiver,  does  it  not,  you  little  ones?" 

"  Yes.  Did  I  not  tell  the  truth  ?  "  said  the  smallest 
sparrow;  "the  calendar  is  only  an  invention  of  man, 
and  is  not  arranged  according  to  Nature!  They 
ought  to  leave  these  things  to  us,  who  are  born 
cleverer  than  they." 

And  one  week  passed  away,  and  two  passed  away. 
The  sunbeam  glided  along  over  the  lake,  and  made  it 
shine  like  burnished  tin.  The  snowy  covering  on 
the  field  and  on  the  hill  did  not  glitter  as  it  had  done; 
but  the  white  form,  Winter  himself,  still  sat  there, 
his  gaze  fixed  unswervingly  upon  the  south.  He  did 
not  notice  that  the  snowy  carpet  seemed  to  sink  as 
it  were  into  the  earth,  and  that  here  and  there  a 


io8  ARBOR   DAY 

little  grass-green  patch  appeared,  and  that  all  these 
patches  were  crowded  with  sparrows. 

"Kee-wit!  kee-wit!  Is  Spring  coming  now?" 
"Spring!"  The  cry  resounded  over  field  and 
meadow,  and  through  the  black-brown  woods,  where 
the  moss  still  glimmered  in  bright  green  upon  the 
tree  trunks,  and  from  the  south  the  first  two  storks 
came  flying  through  the  air. 


"WHEN  THE  GREEN  GITS  BACK  IN  THE 
TREES"* 

BY  JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY 

In  the  spring  when  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees, 

And  the  sun  comes  out  and  stays, 
And  your  boots  pull  on  with  a  good  tight  squeeze, 

And  you  think  of  your  barefoot  days; 
When  you  ort  to  work  and  you  want  to  not, 

And  you  and  yer  wife  agrees 
It's  time  to  spade  up  the  garden  lot  — 

When  the  green  gits  back  on  the  trees  — 

Well,  work  is  the  least  of  my  idees 

When  the  green,  you  know,  gits  back  in  the  trees. 

When  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees,  and  bees 

Is  a  buzzin'  aroun'  agin. 
In  that  kind  of  a  lazy  "go-as-you  please" 

Old  gait  they  hum  roun'  in; 

♦  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Bobbs-Merrill  Co. 


THE  FIRST   OF  APRIL  109 

When  the  ground's  all  bald  where  the  hayrick  stood, 
And  the  crick's  riz,  and  the  breeze 

Coaxes  the  bloom  in  the  old  dogwood, 
And  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees  — 
I  like,  as  I  say,  in  sich  scenes  as  these, 
The  time  when  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees. 

When  the  whole  tail-feathers  o'  winter-time 
Is  all  pulled  out  and  gone, 

And  the  sap  it  thaws  and  begins  to  climb, 
And  the  sweat  it  starts  out  on 

A  feller's  forrerd,  a-gittin'  down 
At  the  old  spring  on  his  knees  — 

I  kind  o'  like  jes'  a-loaferin'  roun', 
When  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees  — 
Jes'  a-potterin'  roun'  as  I  —  durn  —  please  — 
When  the  green,  you  know,  gits  back  in  the  trees. 


THE  FIRST  OF  APRIL 

BY  MORTIMER  COLLINS 

Now,  if  to  be  an  April  fool 

Is  to  delight  in  the  song  of  the  thrush. 
To  long  for  the  swallow  in  air's  blue  hollow, 

And  the  nightingale's  riotous  music-gush, 
And  to  painted  vision  of  cities  Elysian 

Out  away  in  the  sunset-flush  — 
Then  I  grasp  my  flagon  and  swear  thereby. 
We  are  April  fools,  my  love  and  I. 


no  ARBOR  DAY 

,  And  if  to  be  an  April  fool 

Is  to  feel  contempt  for  iron  and  gold, 

For  the  shallow  fame  at  which  most  men  aim  — 
And  to  turn  from  worldlings  cruel  and  cold 

To  God  in  His  splendor,  loving  and  tender, 
And  to  bask  in  His  presence  manifold  — 

Then  by  all  the  stars  in  His  infinite  sky, 

We  are  April  fools,  my  Love  and  I. 


SONG:   A  MAY  MORNING 

BY  JOHN  MILTON 

Now  the  bright  morning  star,  Day's  harbinger, 
Comes  dancing  from  the  East,  and  leads  with  her 
The  flowery  May,  who  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cowslip  and  the  pale  primrose. 
Hail,  bounteous  May,  that  doth  inspire 
Mirth,  and  youth,  and  warm  desire; 
Woods  and  groves  are  of  thy  dressing, 
Hill  and  dale  doth  boast  thy  blessing. 
Thus  we  salute  thee  with  our   early  song. 
And  welcome  thee,  and  wish  thee  long. 


SPRING  MAGIC 

BY  CHARLES  DICKENS 

What  man  is  there  over  whose  mind  a  bright 
spring  morning  does  not  exercise  a  magic  influence  ? 


WHY  YE  BLOSSOME  COMETH       iii 

Carrying  him  back  to  the  days  of  his  childish  sports, 
and  conjuring  up  before  him  the  old  green  field  with 
its  gently  waving  trees,  where  the  birds  sang  as  he 
has  never  heard  them  since,  where  the  butterfly 
fluttered  far  more  gaily  than  he  ever  sees  him  now 
in  all  his  ramblings,  where  the  sky  seemed  bluer, 
and  the  sun  shone  more  brightly,  where  the  air  blew 
more  freshly  over  greener  grass  and  sweeter-smelling 
flowers,  where  everything  wore  a  richer  and  more 
brilliant  hue  than  it  is  ever  dressed  in  now !  Such  are 
the  deep  feelings  of  childhood,  and  such  are  the 
impressions  which  every  lovely  object  stamps  upon 
its  heart! 


WHY  YE  BLOSSOME  COMETH  BEFORE 
YE  LEAFE* 

BY  OLIVER  HERFORD 

Once  Hoary  Winter  chanced  —  alas! 

Alas!  hys  waye  mistaking  — 

A  leafless  apple-tree  to  pass 

Where  Spring  lay  dreaming.    "  Fie,  ye  lass ! 

Ye  lass  had  best  be  waking," 

Quoth  he,  and  shook  hys  robe,  and,  lo! 

Lo!  forth  didde  flye  a  cloud  of  snowe. 


♦  From  "The  Bashful  Earthquake  and  other  Fables,"  copy- 
right 1898,  by  Oliver  Herford;  published  by  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons. 


112  ARBOR  DAY 

Now  in  ye  bough  an  elfe  there  dwelte, 

An  elfe  of  wondrous  powere, 

That  when  ye  chillye  snowe  didde  pelte, 

With  magic  charm  each  flake  didde  melte, 

Didde  melte  into  a  flowere; 

And  Spring  didde  wake  and  marvelle  how, 

How  blossomed  so  ye  leafless  bough. 


SPRING 

{After  Meleager) 

BY  ANDREW  LANG 

Now  the  bright  crocus  flames,  and  now 
The  slim  narcissus  takes  the  rain. 

And,  straying  o*er  the  mountain's  brow, 
The  daffodillies  bud  again. 

The  thousand  blossoms  wax  and  wane 
On  wold,  and  heath,  and  fragrant  bough, 
But  fairer  than  the  flowers  art  thou, 

Than  any  growth  of  hill  or  plain. 

Ye  gardens,  cast  your  leafy  crown, 
That  my  Love's  feet  may  tread  it  down, 
Like  lillies  on  the  lilies  set; 

My  love,  whose  lips  are  softer  far 

Than  drowsy  poppy  petals  are. 
And  sweeter  than  the  violet. 


MONTH  OF  APPLE  BLOSSOMS      113 
THE  RETURN  OF  SPRING* 

BY  HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW 

From  Charles  D^  Orleans 
Now  Time   throws   off   his   cloak   again 
Of  ermined  frost,  and  wind,  and  rain, 
And  clothes  him  in  the  embroidery 
Of  glittering  sun  and  clear  blue  sky. 
With  beast  and  bird  the  forest  rings, 
Each  in  his  jargon  cries  or  sings; 
And  Time  throws  off  his  cloak  again 
Of  ermined  frost,  and  wind,  and  rain. 

River,  and  fount,  and  tinkling  brook 
Wear  in  their  dainty  livery 
Drops  of  silver  jewelry; 
In  new-made  suit  they  merry  look; 
And  Time  throws  off  his  cloak  again 
Of  ermined  frost,  and  wind,  and  rain. 


THE  MONTH  OF  APPLE  BLOSSOMS 

BY  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

It  makes  no  difference  that  you  have  seen  forty 
or  fifty  springs,  each  one  is  as  new,  every  process 
as  fresh,  and  the  charm  as  fascinating  as  if  you  had 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  MiflSin  &  Co. 


114  ARBOR  DAY 

never  witnessed  a  single  one.  Nature  works  the 
same  things  without  seeming  repetition.  There, 
for  instance,  is  the  apple-tree.  Every  year  since  our 
boyhood  it  has  been  doing  the  same  thing;  standing 
low  to  the  ground,  with  a  round  and  homely  head, 
without  an  element  of  grandeur  or  poetry,  except  once 
a  year.  In  the  month  of  May,  apple-trees  go  a-court- 
ing.  love  is  evermore  father  of  poetry.  And  the 
month  of  May  finds  the  orchard  no  longer  a 
plain,  sober  business  affair,  but  the  gayest  and 
most  radiant  frolicker  of  the  year.  We  have  seen 
human  creatures  whose  ordinary  life  was  dutiful 
and  prosaic;  but  when  some  extraordinary  excite- 
ment of  grief,  or,  more  likely,  of  deep  love,  had 
thoroughly  mastered  them,  they  broke  forth  into 
a  richness  of  feeling,  an  inspiration  of  sentiment, 
that  mounted  up  into  the  very  kingdom  of 
beauty,  and  for  the  transient  hour  they  glowed 
with  the  very  elements  of  poetry.  And  so  to  us 
seems  the  apple-tree.  From  June  to  May  it  is  a 
homely,  duty-performing,  sober,  matter-of-fact 
tree.  But  May  seems  to  stir  up  a  love-beat  in 
its  veins. 

The  old  round-topped,  crooked-trunked,  and 
ungainly  boughed  fellow  drops  all  world-ways  and 
takes  to  itself  a  new  idea  of  life.  Those  little 
stubbed  spurs,  that  all  the  year  had  seemed  like 
rheumatic  fingers,  or  thumbs  and  fingers,  stiffened 
and  stubbed  by  work,  now  are  transformed.    Forth 


MONTH  OF  APPLE  BLOSSOMS     115 

they  put  a  little  head  of  buds,  which  a  few  rains  and 
days  of  encouraging  warmth  solicit  to  a  cluster  of 
blossoms.  At  first  rosy  and  pink,  then  opening 
purely  white.  And  now,  where  is  your  old,  homely 
tree? 

All  its  crookedness  is  hidden  by  the  sheets  of 
blossoms.  The  whole  top  is  changed  to  a  royal 
dome.  The  literal,  fruit-bearing  tree  is  trans- 
figured, and  glows  with  raiment  whiter  and  purer 
than  any  white  linen.  It  is  a  marvel  and  a  glory! 
What  if  you  have  seen  it  before,  ten  thousand 
times  over?  An  apple-tree  in  full  blossom  is 
like  a  message,  sent  fresh  from  heaven  to  earth, 
of  purity  and  beauty.  We  walk  around  it  rever- 
ently and  admiringly.  We  are  never  tired  of 
looking  at  its  profusion.  Homely  as  it  ordinarily 
is,  yet  now  it  speaks  of  the  munificence  of  God 
better  than  any  other  tree. 

The  very  glory  of  God  seems  resting  upon  it! 
It  is  a  little  inverted  hemisphere,  like  that  above 
it,  and  it  daily  mimics  with  bud  and  bloom 
the  stars  that  nightly  blossom  out  into  the 
darkness  above  it.  Though  its  hour  of  glory 
is  short,  into  it  is  concentrated  a  magnificence 
which  puts  all  the  more  stately  trees  into  the 
background.  If  men  will  not  admire,  insects  and 
birds  will! 

There,  on  the  very  topmost  twig,  that  rises  and 
falls  with  willowy  motion,  sits  that  ridiculous  but 


ii6  ARBOR  DAY 

sweet-singing  bobolink,  singing,  as  a  Roman-candle 
fizzes,  showers  of  sparkling  notes.  If  you  stand  at 
noon  under  the  tree,  you  are  in  a  very  beehive. 
The  tree  is  musical.  The  blossoms  seem,  for  a 
wonder,  to  have  a  voice.  The  odor  is  not  a  rank 
atmosphere  of  sweet.  Like  the  cups  from  which 
it  is  poured,  it  is  delicate  and  sweet.  You  feel 
as  if  there  were  a  timidity  in  it,  that  asked 
your  sympathy,  and  yielded  to  solicitation.  You 
do  not  take  it  whether  you  will  or  not,  but, 
though  it  is  abundant,  you  follow  it  rather 
than  find  it.  Is  not  this  gentle  reserve,  that  yields 
to  real  admiration,  but  hovers  aloof  from  coarse 
or  cold  indifference,  a  beautiful  trait  in  woman  or 
apple-tree  ? 

But  was  there  ever  such  a  spring?  Did  orchards 
ever  before  praise  God  with  such  choral  colors? 
The  whole  landscape  is  aglow  with  orchard  radiance. 
The  hillsides,  the  valleys,  the  fields,  are  full  of 
blossoming  trees.  The  pear  and  cherry  have  shed 
their  blossoms.  The  ground  is  white  as  snow  with 
their  flakes.  Let  other  trees  boast  their  superiority 
in  other  months.  But  in  the  month  of  May,  the  very 
flower-month  of  the  year,  the  crown  and  glory  of  all 
is  the  apple-tree. 

Therefore,  in  my  calendar,  hereafter,  I  do  ordain 
that  the  name  of  this  month  be  changed.  Instead 
of  May,  let  it  henceforth  be  called  in  my  kingdom, 
*'The  Month  of  the  Apple  Blossoms." 


AN  ANGLER'S  WISH      117 


AN  ANGLER'S  WISH* 

BY  HENRY  VAN  DYKE 

When  tulips  bloom  in  Union  Square, 
And  timid  breaths  of  vernal  air 

Go  wandering  down  the  dusty  town, 
Like  children  lost  in  Vanity  Fair; 

When  every  long,  unlovely  row 
Of  westward  houses  stands  aglow, 

And  leads  the  eyes  towards  sunset  skies 
Beyond  the  hills  where  green  trees  grow  — 

Then  weary  seems  the  street  parade. 
And  weary  books,  and  weary  trade: 

I'm  only  wishing  to  go  a-fishing; 
For  this  the  month  of  May  was  made. 

II 
I  guess  the  pussy-willows  now 
Are  creeping  out  on  every  bough 

Along  the  brook;   and  robins  look 
For  early  worms  behind  the  plow. 

The  thistle-birds  have  changed  their  dun 
For  yellow  coats,  to  match  the  sun; 

And  in  the  same  array  of  flame 
The  dandelion  show's  begun. 

♦  From  "The  Builders  and  other  Poems,"  copyright.  1897,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


ii8  ARBOR  DAY 

The  flocks  of  young  anemones 

Are  dancing  round  the  budding  trees: 

Who  can  help  wishing  to  go  a-fishing 
In  days  as  full  of  joy  as  these  ? 

Ill 

I  think  the  meadow-lark's  clear  sound 
Leaks  upward  slowly  from  the  ground, 
While  on  the  wing  the  blue-birds  ring 
Their  wedding-bells  to  woods  around. 

The  flirting  chewink  calls  his  dear 
Behind  the  bush;   and  very  near, 

Where  water  flows,  where  green  grass  grows. 
Song-sparrows  gently  sing,  "Good  cheer." 

And,  best  of  all,  through  twilight's  calm. 
The  hermit-thrush  repeats  his  psalm. 

How  much  I'm  wishing  to  go  a-fishing 
In  days  so  sweet  with  music's  balm! 

IV 
'Tis  not  a  proud  desire  of  mine; 
I  ask  for  nothing  superfine; 

No  heavy  weight,  no  salmon  great, 
To  break  the  record  —  or  my  line : 

Only  an  idle  little  stream, 
Whose  amber  waters  softly  gleam, 

Where  I  may  wade,  through  woodland  shade, 
And  cast  the  fly,  and  loaf,  and  dream : 


MRS.  JUNE'S  PROSPECTUS       119 

Only  a  trout  or  two,  to  dart 

From  foaming  pools  and  try  my  art: 

No   more   I'm   wishing  —  old-fashioned   fishing, 
And  just  a  day  on  Nature's  heart. 


APRIL* 

BY  LLOYD  MIFFLIN 

Among  the  maple-buds  we  heard  the  tones 
Of  April's  earliest  bees,  although  the  days 
Seemed  ruled  by  Mars.  The  veil  of  gathering  haze 

Spread  round  the  silent  hills  in  bluest  zones. 

Deep  in  the  pines  the  breezes  stirred  the  cones, 
As  on  we  strolled  within  the  wooded  ways, 
There  where  the  brook,  transilient,  softly  plays 

With  muffled  plectrum  on  her  harp  of  stones; 

Onward  we  pushed  amid  the  yielding  green 
And  light  rebounding  of  the  cedar  boughs, 

Until  we  heard  —  the  forest  lanes  along, 
Above  the  lingering  drift  of  latest  snows  — 

The  thrush  outpour,  from  coverts  still  unseen, 
His  rare  ebulliency  of  liquid  song! 


MRS.  JUNE'S  PROSPECTUS 

BY  SUSAN  COOLIDGE 

Mrs.  June  is  ready  for  school, 
Presents  her  kind  regard, 

*  By  permission  of  the  author. 


I20  ARBOR  DAY 

And  for  all  her  measures  and  rule 
Refers  to  the  following 

CARD 

To  parents  and  friends:   Mrs  June, 
Of  the  firm  of  Summer  and  Sun, 

Announces  the  opening  of  her  school, 
Established  in  the  year  one. 

An  unlimited  number  received; 

There  is  nothing  at  all  to  pay; 
All  that  is  asked  is  a  merry  heart, 

And  time  enough  to  be  gay. 

The  Junior  class  will  bring, 

In  lieu  of  all  supplies. 
Eight  little  fingers  and  two  little  thumbs 

For  the  making  of  pretty  sand-pies. 

The  Senior  class,  a  mouth 

For  strawberries  and  cream, 
A  nose  apiece  for  a  rose  apiece. 

And  a  tendency  to  dream. 

The  lectures  are  thus  arranged: 

Professor  Cherry  Tree 
Will  lecture  to  the  Climbing  Class, 

Terms  of  instruction  —  free. 

Professor  De-Forest  Spring, 
Will  take  the  class  on  Drink; 


SPRING  121 

And  the  class  in  Titillation, 
Sage  Mr.  Bobolink. 

Young  Mr.  Ox-Eye  Daisy 

Will  demonstrate  each  day 
On  Botany,  on  native  plants, 

And  the  properties  of  hay. 

Miss  Nature,  the  class  in  Fun 

(A  charming  class  to  teach); 
And  the  Swinging  class  and  the  Bird-nest  class 

Miss  Hickory  and  Miss  Beech. 

And  the  Sleepy  class  at  night, 

And  the  Dinner  class  at  noon, 
And  the  Fat  and  Laugh  and  Roses  class, 

They  fall  to  Mrs.  June. 

And  she  hopes  her  little  friends 

Will  be  punctual  as  the  sun; 
For  the  term,  alas!  is  very  short, 

And  she  wants  them  every  one. 


SPRING 

BY  DONALD  G.  MITCHELL  (iK  MARVEL) 

From  Dream  Lije 
The  budding  and  blooming  of  spring  seem  to 
belong  properly  to  the  opening  of  the  months.     It  is 
the  season  of  the  quickest  expansion,  of  the  warmest 


122  ARBOR  DAY 

blood,  of  the  readiest  growth;  it  is  the  boy-age  of  the 
year.  The  birds  sing  in  chorus  in  the  spring  —  just 
as  children  prattle;  the  brooks  run  full  —  like  the 
overflow  of  young  hearts;  the  showers  drop  easily  — 
as  young  tears  flow;  and  the  whole  sky  is  as  capri- 
cious as  the  mind  of  a  boy. 

Between  tears  and  smiles,  the  year  like  the  child 
struggles  into  the  warmth  of  life.  The  old  year, 
say  what  the  chronologists  will,  lingers  upon  the  very 
lap  of  spring,  and  is  only  fairly  gone,  when  the  blos- 
soms of  April  have  strewn  their  pall  of  glory  upon 
his  tomb,  and  the  bluebirds  have  chanted  his 
requiem. 

It  always  seems  to  me  as  if  an  access  of  life  came 
with  the  melting  of  the  winter's  snows;  and  as  if 
every  rootlet  of  grass  that  lifted  its  first  green  blade 
from  the  matted  debris  of  the  old  year's  decay  bore 
my  spirit  upon  it,  nearer  to  the  largess  of  Heaven. 


A  TOUCH  OF  NATURE* 

BY  THOMAS  BAILEY  ALDRICH 

When  first  the  crocus  thrusts  its  point  of  gold 
Up  through  the  still  snow-drifted  garden  mold. 
And  folded  green  things  in  dim  woods  unclose 
Their  crinkled  spears,  a  sudden  tremor  goes 
Into  my  veins  and  makes  me  kith  and  kin 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miffin  &  Co. 


A   SPRING   RELISH  123 

To  every  wild-born  thing  that  thrills  and  blows. 
Sitting  beside  this  crumbling  sea-coal  fire, 
Here  in  the  city's  ceaseless  roar  and  din, 
Far  from  the  brambly  paths  I  used  to  know, 
Far  from  the  rustling  brooks  that  slip  and  shine 
Where  the  Neponset  alders  take  their  glow, 
I  share  the  tremulous  sense  of  bud  and  brier, 
And  inarticulate  ardors  of  the  vine. 


A  SPRING  RELISH* 

BY  JOHN  BURROUGHS 

From  Signs  and  Seasons 
There  is  a  brief  period  in  our  spring  when  I  like 
more  than  at  any  other  time  to  drive  along  the  coun- 
try roads,  or  even  to  be  shot  along  by  steam  and  have 
the  landscape  presented  to  me  like  a  map.  It  is  at 
that  period,  usually  late  in  April,  when  we  behold  the 
first  quickening  of  the  earth.  The  waters  have  sub- 
sided, the  roads  have  become  dry,  the  sunshine  has 
grown  strong  and  its  warmth  has  penetrated  the 
sod;  there  is  a  stir  of  preparation  about  the  farm  and 
all  through  the  country.  One  does  not  care  to  see 
things  very  closely;  his  interest  in  nature  is  not  spec- 
ial, but  general.  The  earth  is  coming  to  life  again. 
All  the  genial  and  more  fertile  places  in  the  land- 
scape are  brought  out;    the  earth  is  quickened  in 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


124  ARBOR  DAY 

spots  and  streaks;  you  can  see  at  a  glance  where 
man  and  nature  have  dealt  the  most  kindly  with  it. 
The  warm,  moist  places,  the  places  that  have  had 
the  wash  of  some  building  or  of  the  road,  or  been 
subjected  to  some  special  mellowing  influence,  how 
quickly  the  turf  awakens  there  and  shows  the  tender 
green!  See  what  the  landscape  would  be,  how  much 
earlier  spring  would  come  to  it,  if  every  square  yard 
of  it  was  alike  moist  and  fertile.  As  the  later  snows 
lay  in  patches  here  and  there,  so  now  the  earliest 
verdure  is  irregularly  spread  over  the  landscape 
and  is  especially  marked  on  certain  slopes,  as  if  it 
had  blown  over  from  the  other  side  and  lodged  there. 

A  little  earlier  the  homesteads  looked  cold  and 
naked;  the  old  farmhouse  was  bleak  and  unattrac- 
tive; now  Nature  seems  especially  to  smile  upon  it; 
her  genial  influences  crowd  up  around  it;  the  turf 
awakens  all  about  as  if  in  the  spirit  of  friendliness. 
See  the  old  barn  on  the  meadow  slope;  the  green 
seems  to  have  oozed  out  from  it  and  to  have  flowed 
slowly  down  the  hill;  at  a  little  distance  it  is  lost  in 
the  sere  stubble.  One  can  see  where  every  spring 
lies  buried  about  the  fields;  its  influence  is  felt  at 
the  surface  and  the  turf  is  early  quickened  there. 
Where  the  cattle  have  loved  to  lie  and  ruminate  in 
the  warm  summer  twilight,  there  the  April  sunshine 
loves  to  linger  too,  till  the  sod  thrills  to  new  life. 

The  home,  the  domestic  feeling  in  nature  is 
brought  out  and  enhanced  at  this  time;   what  man 


A  SPRING  RELISH  125 

has  done  tells,  especially  what  he  has  done  well. 
Our  interest  centers  in  the  farmhouses  and  in  the 
influence  that  seems  to  radiate  from  there.  The 
older  the  home,  the  more  genial  nature  looks  about 
it.  The  new  architectural  place  of  the  rich  citizen, 
with  the  barns  and  outbuildings  concealed  or  dis- 
guised as  much  as  possible  —  spring  is  in  no  hurry 
about  it;  the  sweat  of  long  years  of  honest  labor 
has  not  yet  fattened  the  soil  it  stands  upon. 

The  full  charm  of  this  April  landscape  is  not 
brought  out  till  the  afternoon.  It  seems  to  need  the 
slanting  rays  of  the  evening  sun  to  give  it  the  right 
mellowness  and  tenderness,  or  the  right  perspective. 
It  is,  perhaps,  a  little  too  bald  in  the  strong,  white 
light  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  day,  but  when  the  faint, 
four  o'clock  shadows  begin  to  come  out  and  we  look 
through  the  green  vistas,  and  along  the  farm  lanes 
toward  the  west,  or  out  across  long  stretches  of  fields 
above  which  spring  seems  fairly  hovering,  just  ready 
to  alight,  and  note  the  teams  slowly  plowing,  the 
brightened  moldboard  gleaming  in  the  sun  now  and 
then  —  it  is  at  such  times  we  feel  its  fresh,  delicate 
attraction  the  most.  There  is  no  foliage  on  the  trees 
yet;  only  here  and  there  the  red  bloom  of  the  soft 
maple,  illuminated  by  the  declining  sun,  shows 
vividly  against  the  tender  green  of  a  slope  beyond, 
or  a  willow,  like  a  thin  veil,  stands  out  against  a 
leafless  wood.  Here  and  there  a  little  meadow  water- 
course is  golden  with  marsh  marigolds,  or  some 


126  ARBOR  DAY 

fence,  border,  or  rocky  streak  of  neglected  pasture 
land,  is  thickly  starred  with  the  white  flowers  of  the 
bloodroot.  The  eye  can  devour  a  succession  of 
landscapes  at  such  a  time;  there  is  nothing  that  sates 
or  entirely  fills  it,  but  every  spring  token  stimulates 
it  and  makes  it  more  on  the  alert. 


THE  GLADNESS  OF  NATURE 

BY  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

Is  THIS  a  time  to  be  cloudy  and  sad, 

When  our  mother  Nature  laughs  around; 
When  even  the  deep  blue  heavens  look  glad, 

And    gladness    breathes    from    the    blossoming 
ground  ? 
There  are  notes  of  joy  from  the  hang-bird  and  wren, 

And  the  gossip  of  swallows  through  all  the  sky; 
The  ground-squirrel  gaily  chirps  by  his  den. 

And  the  wilding  bee  hums  merrily  by. 

The  clouds  are  at  play  in  the  azure  space. 

And  their  shadows  at  play  on  the  bright-green  vale, 

And  here  they  stretch  to  the  frolic  chase, 
And  there  they  roll  on  the  easy  gale. 

There's  a  dance  of  leaves  in  that  aspen  bower. 
There's  a  titter  of  winds  in  that  beechen  tree, 

There's  a  smile  on  the  fruit,  and  a  smile  on  the  flower. 
And  a  laugh  from  the  brook  that  runs  to  the  sea. 


THE  RETURN   OF   SPRING  127 

And  look  at  the  broad-faced  sun,  how  he  smiles 
On  the  dewy  earth  that  smiles  in  his  ray 

On  the  leaping  waters  and  gay  young  isles; 
Ay,  look,  and  he'll  smile  thy  gloom  away. 


THE  RETURN  OF  SPRING 

BY  BAYARD  TAYLOR 

A  SPIRIT  of  beauty  walks  the  hills, 

A  spirit  of  love  the  plain; 
The   shadows   are   bright,   and   the   sunshine   fills 

The  air  with  a  diamond  rain! 

Before  my  vision  the  glories  swim, 

To  the  dance  of  a  tune  unheard: 
Is  an  angel  singing  where  woods  are  dim, 

Or  is  it  an  amorous  bird  ? 

Is  it  a  spike  of  azure  flowers, 

Deep  in  the  meadows  seen, 
Or  is  it  the  peacock's  neck  that  towers 

Out  of  the  spangled  green  ? 

Is  a  white  dove  glancing  across  the  blue, 

Or  an  opal  taking  wing? 
For  my  soul  is  dazzled  through  and  through, 

With  the  splendor  of  the  Spring. 


128  ARBOR  DAY 

A  SPRING  SONG 

ANONYMOUS 

Old  Mother  Earth  woke  up  from  her  sleep, 

And  found  she  was  cold  and  bare; 
The  winter  was  over,  the  spring  was  near, 

And  she  had  not  a  dress  to  wear. 
"Alas!"  she  sighed,  with  great  dismay, 

"  Oh,  where  shall  I  get  my  clothes  ? 
There's  not  a  place  to  buy  a  suit. 

And  a  dressmaker  no  one  knows." 

"I'll  make  you  a  dress,"  said  the  springing  grass, 

Just  looking  above  the  ground, 
"A  dress  of  green  of  the  loveliest  sheen, 

To  cover  you  all  around." 
"  And  we,"  said  the  dandelions  gay, 

"Will  dot  it  with  yellow  bright." 
"I'll  make  it  a  fringe,"  said  forget-me-not, 

"Of  blue,  very  soft  and  light." 

"We'll  embroider  the  front,"  said  the  violets, 

■  "With  a  lovely  purple  hue." 

"And  we,"  said  the  roses,  "will  make  you  a  crown 

Of  red,  jeweled  over  with  dew." 
"And  we'll  be  your  gems,"  said  a  voice  from  the 
shade. 

Where  the  ladies'  ear-drops  live  — 
"  Orange  is  the  color  for  any  queen 

And  the  best  we  have  to  give." 


SPRING  IN  THE  SOUTH  129 

Old  Mother  Earth  was  thankful  and  glad, 

As  she  put  on  her  dress  so  gay; 
And  that  is  the  reason,  my  little  ones. 

She  is  looking  so  lovely  to-day. 


SPRING  IN  THE  SOUTH* 

BY  HENRY  VAN  DYKE 

Now  in  the  oak  the  sap  of  life  is  welling, 

Tho'  to  the  bough  the  rusty  leafage  clings; 
Now  on  the  elm  the  misty  buds  are  swelling. 

See  how  the  pine- wood  grows  alive  with  wings; 
Blue-jays  fluttering,  yodeling  and  crying. 

Meadow-larks  sailing  low  above  the  faded  grass. 
Red-birds  whistling  clear,  silent  robins  flying  — 

Who  has  waked  the  birds  up?    What  has  come 
to  pass? 

Last  year's  cotton-plants,  desolately  bowing. 

Tremble  in  the  March-wind,  ragged  and  forlorn; 
Red  are  the  hillsides  of  the  early  plowing. 

Gray  are  the  lowlands,  waiting  for  the  corn. 
Earth  seems  asleep  still,  but  she's  only  feigning; 

Deep  in  her  bosom  thrills  a  sweet  unrest. 
Look  where  the  jasmine  lavishly  is  raining 

Jove's  golden  shower  into  Danae's  breast! 


*  From  "  Music  and  other  Poems,"  copyright,  1904,  by  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons. 


130  ARBOR  t)AY 

Now  on  the  plum  the  snowy  bloom  is  sifted, 

Now  on  the  peach  the  glory  of  the  rose, 
Over  the  hills  a  tender  haze  is  drifted, 

Full  to  the  brim  the  yellow  river  flows. 
Dark  cypress  boughs  with  vivid  jewels  glisten, 

Greener  than  emeralds  shining  in  the  sun. 
Who  has  wrought  the  magic?    Listen,  sweetheart, 
listen ! 

The  mocking-bird  is  singing  Spring  has  begun. 

Hark,  in  his  song  no  tremor  of  misgiving! 

All  of  his  heart  he  pours  into  his  lay  — 
"Love,  love,  love,  and  pure  delight  of  living: 

Winter  is  forgotten:   here's  a  happy  day!" 
Fair  in  your  face  I  read  the  flowery  presage, 

Snowy  on  your  brow  and  rosy  on  your  mouth : 
Sweet  in  your  voice  I  hear  the  season's  message  — 

Love,  love,  love,  and  Spring  in  the  South! 


THE  SPRING 

BY  JAMES  SPEED 

Have  you  ever  gone  into  the  woods  on  an  early  day, 
a  day  when  the  wind  was  still  cold,  but  in  the  south  ? 
One  of  those  days  when  the  smile  of  the  sun  and  the 
soft  noise  of  the  wind  make  you  know  in  some  vague 
way  that  spring  is  coming  ?  If  you  have  not,  try  it. 
Go  sit  at  the  base  of  some  old  man  of  the  woods 
whose  sides  are  gray  and  green  with  clinging  lichens 


AN  INVITATION  TO  THE  COUNTRY  131 

and  mosses  and  whose  head  shows  the  fight  with  win- 
ter storms  and  heavy  sleets.  Put  your  head  against 
his  side,  there  is  no  sound;  drop  your  head  to  the 
ground,  and  yet  no  sound;  but  you  know  that  he,  too, 
has  heard  the  summons  to  awake;  that  spring  is  com- 
ing. Somehow  you  feel  as  you  see  the  tender  green 
veiling  the  lightest  twigs  that  the  trees  are  vitally  alive. 
As  the  birds  have  their  songs  to  tell  of  their  love, 
so  the  trees  and  the  plants  put  forth  their  joy  at  the 
marriage  time  by  their  odors  which  float  everywhere 
and  make  the  spring  air  a  thing  to  be  remembered. 
Have  you  ever  been  through  the  woods  when  the 
wild  grape  vines  were  a  mass  of  bloom?  Was  not 
their  odor  as  suggestive  in  a  subtle  way  as  the  song 
of  the  birds  ?  So  think  of  the  trees,  as  people  who 
live  in  a  little  different  world,  but  still  part  of  the 
throbbing  life  which  is  manifest  everywhere. 


AN  INVITATION  TO  THE  COUNTRY 

BY  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

Already,  close  by  our  summer  dwelling, 
The  Easter  sparrow  repeats  her  song; 

A  merry  warbler,  she  chides  the  blossoms  — 
The  idle  blossoms  that  sleep  so  long. 

The  bluebird  chants,  from  the  elm's  long  branches, 
A  hymn  to  welcome  the  budding  year. 

The  south  wind  wanders  from  field  to  forest, 
And  softly  whispers,  "The  spring  is  here." 


132  ARBOR  DAY 

Come,  daughter  mine,  from  the  gloomy  city. 
Before  those  lays  from  the  elm  have  ceased : 

The  violet  breathes,  by  our  door,  as  sweetly 
As  in  the  air  of  her  native  east. 

Though  many  a  flower  in  the  wood  is  waking, 

The  daffodil  is  our  doorside  queen; 
She  pushes  upward  the  sward  already, 

To  spot  with  sunshine  the  early  green. 

No  lays  so  joyous  as  these  are  warbled 
From  wiry  prison  in  maiden's  bower; 

No  pampered  bloom  of  the  greenhouse  chamber 
Has  half  the  charm  of  the  lawn's  first  flower. 

Yet  these  sweet  sounds  of  the  early  season, 
And  these  fair  sights  of  its  sunny  days, 

Are  only  sweet  when  we  fondly  listen. 
And  only  fair  when  we  fondly  gaze. 


A  VIOLIN  MOOD 

BY  ROBERT  HAVEN  SCHAUFFLER 

To-DAY  the  sense  of  spring  fills  all  my  frame. 

And,  thrilling,  stirs  and  throbs  in  me  as  when 
The  sap  began  to  course  like  liquid  flame 

In  March  in  my  old  tree-home  far  from  men. 

And  now  my  voice  grows  warm  and  rich  again 
And  full  of  vibrant,  vernal  murmuring, 

Re-echoing  bird-notes  out  of  brake  and  fen 


SPRING  133 

That  tell  of  youth  and  young  love  on  the  wing 
And  all  the  thousand  joyous  mysteries  of  Spring. 


SPRING* 

BY  HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW 

In  all  climates  spring  is  beautiful.  The  birds 
begin  to  sing;  they  utter  a  few  joyful  notes,  and  then 
wait  for  an  answer  in  the  silent  woods.  Those 
green-coated  musicians,  the  frogs,  make  holiday 
in  the  neighboring  marshes.  They,  too,  belong  to 
the  orchestra  of  nature,  whose  vast  theater  is  again 
opened,  though  the  doors  have  been  so  long  bolted 
with  icicles,  and  the  scenery  hung  with  snow  and 
frost  like  cobwebs.  This  is  the  prelude  which 
announces  the  opening  of  the  scene.  Already  the 
grass  shoots  forth,  the  waters  leap  with  thrilling 
force  through  the  veins  of  the  earth,  the  sap  through 
the  veins  of  the  plants  and  trees,  and  the  blood 
through  the  veins  of  man.  What  a  thrill  of  delight 
in  springtime!  What  a  joy  in  being  and  moving! 
Men  are  at  work  in  gardens,  and  in  the  air  there  is 
an  odor  of  the  fresh  earth.  The  leaf -buds  begin  to 
swell  and  blush.  The  white  blossoms  of  the  cherry 
hang  upon  the  boughs  like  snowfiakes;  and  ere 
long  our  next-door  neighbor  will  be  completely 
hidden  from  us  by  the  dense  green  foliage.    The 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miflflin  &  Co. 


134  ARBOR  DAY 

Mayflowers  open  their  soft  blue  eyes.  Children 
are  let  loose  in  the  fields  and  gardens.  They  hold 
buttercups  under  each  other's  chins,  to  see  if  they 
love  butter.  And  the  little  girls  adorn  themselves 
with  chains  and  curls  of  dandelions;  pull  out  the 
yellow  leaves  to  see  if  the  schoolboy  loves  them,  and 
blow  the  down  from  the  leafless  stalk,  to  find  out  if 
their  mothers  want  them  at  home.  And  at  night 
so  cloudless  and  so  still !  Not  a  voice  of  living  thing 
—  not  a  whisper  of  leaf  or  waving  bough  —  not  a 
breath  of  wind  —  not  a  sound  upon  the  earth  or  in 
the  air!  And  overhead  bends  the  blue  sky,  dewy 
and  soft,  and  radiant  with  innumerable  stars  like 
the  inverted  bell  of  some  blue  flower,  sprinkled  with 
golden  dust,  and  breathing  fragrance.  Or,  if  the 
heavens  are  overcast,  it  is  no  wild  storm  of  wind  and 
rain,  but  clouds  that  melt  and  fall  in  showers. 
One  does  not  wish  to  sleep,  but  lies  awake  to  hear 
the  pleasant  sound  of  the  dropping  rain. 


APRIL  DAYS 

BY  ALFRED  TENNYSON 

From  In  Memoriam 
Dip  down  upon  the  northern  shore, 

O  sweet  new  year  delaying  long; 

Thou  doest  expectant  nature  wrong; 
Delaying  long,  delay  no  more. 


LINES  WRITTEN  IN  SPRING        135 

What  stays  thee  from  the  clouded  noons, 
Thy  sweetness  from  its  proper  place? 
Can  trouble  live  with  April  days, 

Or  sadness  in  the  summer  moons? 

Bring  orchis,  bring  the  foxglove  spire. 
The  little  speedwelPs  darling  blue. 
Deep  tulips  dash'd  with  fiery  dew^ 

Laburnums,  dropping  wells  of  fire. 

O  thou,  new  year,  delaying  long, 
Delayest  the  sorrow  in  my  blood, 
That  longs  to  burst  a  frozen  bud, 

And  flood  a  fresher  throat  with  song. 


LINES  WRITTEN  IN  EARLY  SPRING 

BY  WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH 

I  HEARD  a  thousand  blended  notes, 

While  in  a  grove  I  sate  reclined, 
In  that  sweet  mood  when  pleasant  thoughts 

Bring  sad  thoughts  to  the  mind. 

To  her  fair  works  did  Nature  link 
The  human  soul  that  through  me  ran; 

And  much  it  grieved  my  heart  to  think 
What  man  has  made  of  man. 

Through  primrose  tufts,  in  that  sweet  bower. 
The  periwinkle  trailed  its  wreaths; 


136  ARBOR  DAY 

And  'tis  my  faith  that  every  flower 
Enjoys  the  air  it  breathes. 

The  birds  around  me  hopped  and  played; 

Their  thoughts  I  cannot  measure  — 
But  the  least  motion  which  they  made, 

It  seemed  a  thrill  of  pleasure. 

The  budding  twigs  spread  out  their  fan, 

To  catch  the  breezy  air; 
And  I  must  think,  do  all  I  can, 

That  there  was  pleasure  there. 

If  this  belief  from  heaven  be  sent. 
If  such  be  Nature's  holy  plan, 

Have  I  not  reason  to  lament 
What  man  has  made  of  man  ? 


V 
TREES 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN* 

BY  SIDNEY  LANIER 

Glooms  of  the  live-oaks,  beautiful-braided  and  woven 
With  intricate  shades  of  the  vines  that  myriad-cloven 
Clamber  the  forks  of  the  multiform  boughs  — 

Emerald  twilights  — 

Virginal  shy  lights, 
Wrought  of  the  leaves  to  allure  to  the  whisper  of  vows, 
When  lovers  pace  timidly    down  through  the  green 

colonnades 
Of  the  dim  sweet  woods,  of  the  dear  dark  woods, 
Of  the  heavenly  woods  and  glades, 
That  run  to  the  radiant  marginal  sand-beach  within 
The  wide  sea-marshes  of  Glynn;  — 

Beautiful  glooms,  soft  dusks  in  the  noonday  fire  — 
Wildwood  privacies,  closets  of  lone  desire. 
Chamber  from  Chamber  parted    with    wavering 

arras  of  leaves  — 
Cells  for  the  passionate  pleasure  of  prayer  to  the 

soul  that  grieves, 
Pure  with  a  sense  of  the  passing  of  saints  through  the 

wood, 

*  From  "The  Poems  of  Sidney  Lanier."    Copyright  1884, 1891, 
by  Mary  D.  Lanier;  published  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

139 


I40  ARBOR  DAY 

Cool  for  the  dutiful  weighing  of  ill  with  good; 

O  braided  dusks  of  the  oak  and  woven  shades  of  the 

vine, 
While  the  riotous  noonday  sun  of   the   June-day 

long  did  shine 
Ye  held  me  fast  in  your  heart  and  I  held  you  fast  in 

mine; 
But    now  when  the  noon  is   no  more,  and  riot 

is  rest, 
And  the  sun  is  a-wait  at  the  ponderous  gate  of  the 

West, 
And  the  slant  yellow  beam  down  the  wood-aisle 

doth  seem 
Like  a  lane  into  heaven  that  leads  from  a  dream. 
Ay,  now,  when  my  soul  all  day  hath  drunken  the 

soul  of  the  oak. 
And  my  heart  is  at  ease  from  men,  and  the  weari- 
some sound  of  the  stroke 
Of  the  scythe  of  time  and  the  trowel  of  trade  is  low, 
And  belief  overmasters  doubt,  and  I  know  that  I 

know. 
And  my  spirit  is  grown  to  a  lordly  great  compass 

within. 
That  the  length  and  the  breadth  and  the  sweep  of 

the  Marshes  of  Glynn 
Will  work  me  no  fear  like  the  fear  they  have  wrought 

me  of  yore 
When  length  was  fatigue,  and  when  breadth  was  but 

bitterness  sore. 


TALKS  ON  TREES  141 

And  when  terror  and  shrinking  and  dreary,  unnam- 

able  pain 
Drew  over  me  out  of  the  merciless  miles  of  the  plain, 

Oh,  now,  unafraid,  I  am  fain  to  face 

The  vast  sweet  visage  of  space. 
To  the  edge  of  the  wood  I  am  drawn,  I  am  drawn. 
Where  the  gray  beach  glimmering  runs,  as  a  belt 
of  the  dawn. 

For  a  mete  and  a  mark 

To  the  forest  dark: 

So: 

Affable  live-oak,  leaning  low, 

Thus  —  with  your  favor  —  soft,  with  a  reverent  hand 

(Not  lightly  touching    your    person,   lord  of    the 

land!) 
Bending  your  beauty  aside,  with  a  step  I  stand 
On  the  firm-packed  sand, 

Free 
By  a  world  of  marsh  that  borders  a  world  of  sea. 


TALKS  ON  TREES* 

BY  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES 

From  The  Autocrat  0}  the  Breakfast  Table 
Don't  you  want  to  hear  me  talk  trees  a  little  now  ? 
That  is  one  of  my  specialties. 

*  By  permission  of  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co, 


142  ARBOR  DAY 

I  want  you  to  understand,  in  the  first  place,  that  I 
have  a  most  intense,  passionate  fondness  for  trees 
in  general,  and  have  had  several  romantic  attach- 
ments to  certain  trees  in  particular. 

I  shall  speak  of  trees  as  we  see  them,  love  them, 
adore  them  in  the  fields,  where  they  are  alive,  hold- 
ing their  green  sunshades  over  our  heads,  talking  to 
us  with  their  hundred  thousand  whispering  tongues, 
looking  down  on  us  with  that  sweet  meekness  which 
belongs  to  huge,  but  limited,  organisms  —  which 
one  sees  in  the  brown  eyes  of  oxen,  but  most  in 
the  patient  posture,  the  outstretched  arms,  and 
the  heavy-drooping  robes  of  these  vast  beings 
endowed  with  life,  but  not  with  soul  —  which 
outgrow  us  and  outlive  us,  but  stand  helpless  — 
poor  things!  —  while  Nature  dresses  and  undresses 
them,  like  so  many  full-sized,  but  under-witted, 
children. 

Just  think  of  applying  the  Linnaean  system  to 
an  elm!  Who  cares  how  many  stamens  or  pistils 
that  little  brown  flower,  which  comes  out  before  the 
leaf,  may  have  to  classify  it  by  ?  What  we  want 
is  the  meaning,  the  character,  the  expression  of  a 
tree,  as  a  kind  and  as  an  individual. 

There  is  a  mother-idea  in  each  particular  kind  of 
tree,  which,  if  well  marked,  is  probably  embodied 
in  the  poetry  of  every  language.  Take  the  oak,  for 
instance,  and  we  find  it  always  standing  as  a  type 
of  strength  and  endurance.    I  wonder  if  you  ever 


TALKS  ON  TREES  143 

thought  of  the  single  mark  of  supremacy  which 
distinguishes  this  tree  from  those  around  it?  The 
others  shirk  the  work  of  resisting  gravity;  the  oak 
defies  it.  It  chooses  the  horizontal  direction  for 
its  limbs  so  that  their  whole  weight  may  tell,  and 
then  stretches  them  out  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  so  that  the 
strain  may  be  mighty  enough  to  be  worth  resisting. 
You  will  find,  that,  in  passing  from  the  extreme  down- 
ward droop  of  the  branches  of  the  weeping  willow 
to  the  extreme  upward  inclination  of  those  of  the 
poplar,  they  sweep  nearly  half  a  circle.  At  90 
degrees  the  oak  stops  short ;  to  slant  upward  another 
degree  would  mark  infirmity  of  purpose;  to  bend 
downwards,  weakness  of  organization.  The  Ameri- 
can elm  betrays  something  of  both;  yet  sometimes, 
as  we  shall  see,  puts  on  a  certain  resemblance  to 
its  sturdier  neighbor. 

It  won't  do  to  be  exclusive  in  our  taste  about  trees. 
There  is  hardly  one  of  them  which  has  not  peculiar 
beauties  in  some  fitting  place  for  it.  I  remem- 
ber a  tall  poplar  of  monumental  proportions  and 
aspect,  a  vast  pillar  of  glossy  green,  placed  on  the 
sunmait  of  a  lofty  hill,  and  a  beacon  to  all  the  coun- 
try round.  A  native  of  that  region  saw  fit  to  build 
his  house  very  near  it,  and,  having  a  fancy  that  it 
might  blow  down  some  time  or  other,  and  exter- 
minate himself  and  any  incidental  relatives  who 
might  be  "stopping"  or  "tarrying"  with  him  — 
also  laboring  under  the  delusion  that  human  life 


144  ARBOR   DAY 

is  under  all  circumstances  to  be  preferred  to  vege- 
table existence  —  had  the  great  poplar  cut  down. 
It  is  so  easy  to  say,  **  It  is  only  a  poplar,"  and  so  much 
harder  to  replace  its  living  cone  than  to  build  a 
granite  obelisk! 

I  always  tremble  for  a  celebrated  tree  when  I 
approach  it  for  the  first  time.  Provincialism  has 
no  scale  of  excellence  in  man  or  vegetable;  it  never 
knows  a  first-rate  article  of  either  kind  when  it 
has  it,  and  is  constantly  taking  second  and  third 
rate  ones  for  Nature^s  best.  I  have  often  fancied 
the  tree  was  afraid  of  me,  and  that  a  sort  of  shiver 
came  over  it  as  over  a  betrothed  maiden  when  she 
first  stands  before  the  unknown  to  whom  she  has 
been  phghted.  Before  the  measuring  tape  the 
proudest  tree  of  them  all  quails  and  shrinks  into 
itself.  All  those  stories  of  four  or  five  men  stretch- 
ing their  arms  around  it  and  not  touching  each  other's 
fingers,  of  one's  pacing  the  shadow  at  noon  and 
making  it  so  many  hundred  feet,  die  upon  its  leafy 
lips  in  the  presence  of  the  awful  ribbon  which  has 
strangled  so  many  false  pretensions. 

The  largest  actual  girth  I  have  ever  found  at  five 
feet  from  the  ground  is  in  the  great  elm  lying  a 
stone's  throw  or  two  north  of  the  main  road  (if  my 
points  of  compass  are  right)  in  Springfield.  But  this 
has  much  the  appearance  of  having  been  formed 
by  the  union  of  two  trunks  growing  side  by  side. 


TALKS   ON  TREES  145 

The  West  Springfield  elm  and  one  upon  North- 
ampton meadows  belong  also  to  the  first  class  of 
trees. 

There  is  a  noble  old  wreck  of  an  elm  at  Hatfield, 
which  used  to  spread  its  claws  out  over  a  cir- 
cumference of  thirty-five  feet  or  more  before 
they  covered  the  foot  of  its  bole  up  with  earth. 
This  is  the  American  elm  most  like  an  oak  of 
any  I  have  ever  seen. 

What  makes  a  first-class  elm?  Why,  size,  in  the 
first  place,  and  chiefly.  Anything  over  twenty  feet 
of  clear  girth,  five  feet  above  the  ground  and  with  a 
spread  of  branches  a  hundred  feet  across,  may  claim 
that  title,  according  to  my  scale.  All  of  them,  with 
the  questionable  exception  of  the  Springfield  tree 
above  referred  to,  stop,  so  far  as  my  experience  goes, 
at  about  twenty-two  or  twenty-three  feet  of  girth 
and  a  hundred  and  twenty  of  spread. 

Elms  of  the  second  class,  generally  ranging  from 
fourteen  to  eighteen  feet,  are  comparatively  com- 
mon. The  queen  of  them  all  is  that  glorious  tree 
near  one  of  the  churches  in  Springfield.  Beautiful 
and  stately  she  is  beyond  all  praise.  The  "great 
tree"  on  Boston  common  comes  in  the  second  rank, 
as  does  the  one  at  Cohasset,  which  used  to  have,  and 
probably  has  still,  a  head  as  round  as  an  apple- 
tree,  and  that  at  Newburyport,  with  scores  of  others 
which  might  be  mentioned.    These  last  two  have, 


146  ARBOR  DAY 

perhaps,  been  over-celebrated.  Both,  however, 
are  pleasing  vegetables.  The  poor  old  Pittsfield 
elm  lives  on  its  past  reputation.  A  wig  of  false 
leaves  is  indispensable  to  make  it  presentable. 

Go  out  with  me  into  that  walk  which  we  call  the 
Mall,  and  look  at  the  English  and  American  elms 
The  American  elm  is  tall,  graceful,  slender-sprayed, 
and  drooping  as  if  from  languor.  The  English  elm 
is  compact,  robust,  holds  its  branches  up,  and  carries 
its  leaves  for  weeks  longer  than  our  own  native  tree. 

Is  this  typical  of  the  creative  force  on  the  two 
sides  of  the  ocean,  or  not?  Nothing  but  a  careful 
comparison  through  the  whole  realm  of  life  can 
answer  this  question. 

There  is  a  parallelism  without  identifying  in  the 
animal  and  vegetable  life  of  the  two  continents, 
which  favors  the  task  of  comparison  in  an  extraordi- 
nary manner.  Just  as  we  have  two  trees  alike  ir 
many  ways,  yet  not  the  same,  both  elms,  yet  easil} 
distinguishable,  just  so  we  have  a  complete  flor  , 
and  a  fauna,  which,  parting  from  the  same  idea' 
embody  it  with  various  modifications. 

I  have  something  more  to  say  about  trees, 
have  brought  down  this  slice  of  hemlock  to  she 
you.    Tree  blew  down  in  my  woods  (that  were 
in  1852.    Twelve  feet  and  a  half  round,  fair  girth 
nine  feet,  where  I  got  my  section,  higher  up.    This 
is  a  wedge,  going  to  the  centre,  of  the  general  shape 


TALKS  ON  TREES  147 

s  of  a  slice  of  apple  pie  in  a  large  and  not  opulent 
I  family.  Length,  about  eighteen  inches. 
I  I  have  studied  the  growth  of  this  tree  by  its  rings, 
and  it  is  curious.  Three  hundred  and  forty-two 
rings.  Started,  therefore,  about  15 10.  The  thick- 
ness of  the  rings  tells  of  the  rate  at  which  it  grew. 
For  five  or  six  years  the  rate  was  slow,  then  rapid 
for  twenty  years.  A  little  before  the  year  1550  it 
began  to  grow  very  slowly,  and  so  continued  for 
about  seventy  years.  In  1620  it  took  a  new  start 
and  grew  fast  until  17 14,  then  for  the  most  part 
slowly  until  1786,  when  it  started  again  and  grew 
pretty  well  and  uniformly  until  within  the  last 
dozen  years,  when  it  seems  to  have  got  on  sluggishly. 
Look  here.  Here  are  some  human  lives  laid  down 
against  the  periods  of  its  growth,  to  which  they 
corresponded.  This  is  Shakespeare's.  The  tree  was 
seven  inches  in  diameter  when  he  was  bom;  ten 
inches  when  he  died.  A  little  less  than  ten  inches 
when  Milton  was  born;  seventeen  when  he  died. 
Then  comes  a  long  interval,  and  this  thread  marks 
out  Johnson's  life,  during  which  the  tree  increased 
from  twenty-two  to  twenty-nine  inches  in  diameter. 
Here  is  the  span  of  Napoleon's  career;  the  tree 
doesn't  seem  to  have  minded  it. 

I  never  saw  the  man  yet  who  was  not  startled  at 
looking  on  this  section.  I  have  seen  many  wooden 
preachers  —  never  one  like  this.  How  much  more 
striking  would  be  the   calendar  counted   on  the 


148  ARBOR  DAY 

rings  of  one  of  those  awful  trees  which  were  stand- 
ing when  Christ  was  on  earth,  and  where  that  brief 
mortal  life  is  chronicled  with  the  stolid  apathy  of 
vegetable  being,  which  remembers  all  human  history 
as  a  thing  of  yesterday  in  its  own  dateless  existence! 


INSCRIPTION  FOR  THE   ENTRANCE  TO 
A  WOOD 

BY  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

Stranger,  if  thou  hast  learned  a  truth  which  needs 
No  school  of  long  experience,  that  the  world 
Is  full  of  guilt  and  misery,  and  hast  seen 
Enough  of  all  its  sorrows,  crimes,  and  cares, 
To  tire  thee  of  it,  enter  this  wild  wood 
And  view  the  haunts  of  Nature.    The  calm  shade 
Shall  bring  a  kindred  calm,  and  the  sweet  breeze 
That  makes  the  green  leaves  dance,  shall  waft  a 

balm 
To  thy  sick  heart.    Thou  wilt  find  nothing  here 
Of  all  that  pained  thee  in  the  haunts  of  men, 
And  made  thee  loathe  thy  life.    The  primal  curse 
Fell,  it  is  true,  upon  the  unsinning  earth, 
But  not  in  vengeance.     God  hath  yoked  to  guilt 
Her  pale  tormentor,  misery.    Hence,  these  shades 
Are  still  the  abodes  of  gladness;  the  thick  roof 
Of  green  and  stirring  branches  is  alive 
And  musical  with  birds,  that  sing  and  sport 


INSCRIPTION  FOR  ENTRANCE     149 

In  wantonness  of  spirit;  while  below 

The  squirrel,  with  raised  paws  and  form  erect, 

Chirps  merrily.     Throngs  of  insects  in  the  shade 

Try  their  thin  wings  and  dance  in  the  warm  beam 

That  waked  them  into  life.     Even  the  green  trees 

Partake  the  deep  contentment;  as  they  bend 

To  the  soft  winds,  the  sun  from  the  blue  sky 

Looks  in  and  sheds  a  blessing  on  the  scene. 

Scarce  less  the  cleft-born  wild-flower  seems  to  enjoy 

Existence,  than  the  winged  plunderer 

That  sucks  its  sweets.    The  mossy  rocks  themselves. 

And  the  old  and  ponderous  trunks  of  prostrate  trees 

That  lead  from  knoll  to  knoll  a  causey  rude, 

Or  bridge  the  sunken  brook,  and  their  dark  roots, 

With  all  their  earth  upon  them,  twisting  high, 

Breathe  fixed  tranquillity.    The  rivulet 

Sends  forth  glad  sounds,  and  tripping  o'er  its  bed 

Of  pebbly  sands,  or  leaping  down  the  rocks, 

Seems,  with  continuous  laughter,  to  rejoice 

In  its  own  being.     Softly  tread  the  marge. 

Lest  from  her  midway  perch  thou  scare  the  wren 

That  dips  her  bill  in  water.*    The  cool  wind. 

That  stirs  the  stream  in  play,  shall  come  to  thee, 

Like  one  that  loves  thee  nor  will  let  thee  pass 

Ungreeted,  and  shall  give  its  light  embrace. 

*  The  poem,  as  first  published  in  the  North  American  Review 
for  September,  1817,  under  the  title  "A  Fragment,"  ended  at 
this  point.  The  last  lines  were  added  in  the  first  edition  of  the 
Poems,  in  182 1. 


156  ARBOR  DAV 


THE  APPEAL  OF  THE  TREES 

BY  J.  HORACE  McFARLAND 

From  Getting  Acquainted  with  the  Trees 
A  TREE  is  never  without  interest  to  those  whose 
eyes  have  been  opened  to  some  of  the  wonders  and 
perfections  of  Nature.  Nevertheless,  there  is  a  time 
in  the  year's  round  when  each  tree  makes  its  special 
appeal.  It  may  be  in  the  winter,  when  every  twig 
is  outlined  sharply  against  the  cold  sky,  and  the 
snow  reflects  light  into  the  innermost  crevices  of  its 
structure,  that  the  elm  is  most  admirable.  When 
the  dogwood  has  on  its  white  robe  in  May  and 
June,  it  then  sings  its  song  of  the  year.  The  laden 
apple-tree  has  a  pure  glory  of  the  blossoms,  and 
another  warmer,  riper  glory  of  the  burden  of  fruit, 
but  we  think  most  kindly  of  its  flowering  time. 

Some  trees  maintain  such  a  continuous  show  of 
interest  and  beauty  that  it  is  difficult  to  say  on  any 
day,  ^'Now  is  this  tulip  or  this  oak  at  its  very  finest!'* 


A  BALLAD  OF  TREES  AND  THE  MASTER* 

BY  SIDNEY  LANIER 

Into  the  woods  my  Master  went. 
Clean  forspent,  forspent. 

*  From  "The  Poems  of  Sidney  Lanier,"  copyright  1884, 1891, 
by  Mary  D.  Lanier,  published  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


WOODNOTES  151 

Into  the  woods  my  Master  came, 
Forspent  with  love  and  shame. 
But  the  olives  they  were  not  blind  to  Him; 
The  little  gray  leaves  were  kind  to  Him; 
The  thom-tree  had  a  mind  to  Him 
When  into  the  woods  He  came. 

Out  of  the  woods  my  Master  went, 

And  He  was  well  content. 

Out  of  the  woods  my  Master  came, 

Content  with  death  and  shame. 

When  Death  and  Shame  would  woo  Him  last, 

From  under  the  trees  they  drew  Him  last: 

'Twas  on  a  tree  they  slew  Him  —  last, 

When  out  of  the  woods  He  came. 


WOODNOTES* 
II 

BY  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

As  the  sunbeams  stream  through  liberal  space 
And  nothing  jostle  or  displace, 
So  waved  the  pine-tree  through  my  thought 
And  fanned  the  dreams  it  never  brought. 


*By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miffin  &  Co. 

The  stately  white  pine  of  New  England  was  Emerson's 
favorite  tree.  .  .  .  This  poem  records  the  actual  fact; 
nearly  every  day,  summer  or  winter,  when  at  home,  he  went  to 
listen  to  its  song.  The  pine  grove  by  Walden,  still  standing, 
though  injured  by  time  and  fire,  was  one  of  his  most  valued 
possessions.  He  questioned  whether  he  should  not  name  his 
book  "Forest  Essays,"  for,  he  said,  **  I  have  scarce  a  day-dream 


152  ARBOR   DAY 

''Whether  is  better,  the  gift  or  the  donor? 

Come  to  me," 

Quoth  the  pine-tree, 

"  I  am  the  giver  of  honor. 

My  garden  is  the  cloven  rock, 

And  my  manure  the  snow; 

And  drifting  sand-heaps  feed  my  stock, 

In  summer's  scorching  glow. 

He  is  great  who  can  live  by  me: 

The  rough  and  bearded  forester 

Is  better  than  the  lord; 

God  fills  the  scrip  and  canister. 

Sin  piles  the  loaded  board. 

The  lord  is  the  peasant  that  was. 

The  peasant  the  lord  that  shall  be; 

The  lord  is  hay,  the  peasant  grass, 

One  dry,  and  one  the  living  tree. 

Who  liveth  by  the  ragged  pine 

Foundeth  a  heroic  line; 

Who  liveth  in  the  palace  hall 

Waneth  fast  and  spendeth  all.* 


on  which  the  breath  of  the  pines  has  not  blown  and  their  shadow 
waved."  The  great  pine  on  the  ridge  over  Sleepy  Hollow  was 
chosen  by  him  as  his  monument.  When  a  youth,  in  Newton,  he 
had  written,  "Here  sit  Mother  and  I  under  the  pine-trees,  still 
almost  as  we  shall  lie  by  and  by  under  them." — (E.  W.  Emerson, 
in  the  Centenary  Edition.) 

*  Compare  the  essay  on  "Manners":  "The  city  would  have  died 
out,  rotted,  and  exploded,  long  ago,  but  that  it  was  reinforced 
from  the  fields.  It  is  only  country  which  came  to  town  day 
before  yesterday  that  is  city  and  court  to-day." 


WOODNOTES  153 

He  goes  to  my  savage  haunts, 
With  his  chariot  and  his  care ; 
My  twilight  realm  he  disenchants, 
And  finds  his  prison  there. 

"What  prizes  the  town  and  the  tower? 

Only  what  the  pine-tree  yields ; 

Sinew  that  subdued  the  fields ; 

The  wild-eyed  boy,  who  in  the  woods 

Chants  his  hymn  to  hills  and  floods. 

Whom  the  city's  poisoning  spleen 

Made  not  pale,  or  fat,  or  lean ; 

Whom  the  rain  and  the  wind  purgeth. 

Whom  the  dawn  and  the  day-star  urgeth, 

In  whose  cheek  the  rose-leaf  blusheth. 

In  whose  feet  the  lion  rusheth. 

Iron  arms  and  iron  mold. 

That  know  not  fear,  fatigue  or  cold. 

I  give  my  rafters  to  his  boat, 

My  billets  to  his  boiler's  throat, 

And  I  will  swim  the  ancient  sea 

To  float  my  child  to  victory. 

And  grant  to  dwellers  with  the  pine 

Dominion  o'er  the  palm  and  vine. 

Who  leaves  the  pine-tree  leaves  his  friend, 

Unnerves  his  strength,  invites  his  end. 

Cut  a  bough  from  my  parent  stem, 

And  dip  it  in  thy  porcelain  vase ; 

A  little  while  each  russet  gem 


154  ARBOR  DAY 

Will  swell  and  rise  with  wonted  grace; 

But  when  it  seeks  enlarged  supplies, 

The  orphan  of  the  forest  dies. 

Whoso  walks  in  solitude 

And  inhabiteth  the  wood, 

Choosing  light,  wave,  rock  and  bird, 

Before  the  money-loving  herd. 

Into  that  forester  shall  pass, 

From  these  companions,  power  and  grace. 

Clean  shall  he  be,  without,  within, 

From  the  old  adhering  sin. 

All  ill  dissolving  in  the  light 

Of  his  triumphant  piercing  sight: 

Not  vain,  nor  sour,  nor  frivolous; 

Not  mad,  athirst,  nor  garrulous; 

Grave,  chaste,  contented,  though  retired, 

And  of  all  other  men  desired. 

On  him  the  light  of  star  and  moon 

Shall  fall  with  purer  radiance  down; 

All  constellations  of  the  sky 

Shed  their  virtue  through  his  eye. 

Him  nature  giveth  for  defense 

His  formidable  innocence; 

The  mountain  sap,  the  shells,  the  sea, 

All  spheres,  all  stones,  his  helpers  be; 

He  shall  meet  the  speeding  year, 

Without  wailing,  without  fear; 

He  shall  be  happy  in  his  love, 

Like  to  like  shall  joyful  prove; 


A  TEMPLE  155 

He  shall  be  happy  whilst  he  woos, 
Muse-bom,  a  daughter  of  the  Muse. 


PINE  NEEDLES 

BY  WILLIAM  H.  HAYNE 

If  Mother  Nature  patches 
The  leaves  of  trees  and  vines, 

I'm  sure  she  does  her  darning 
With  the  needles  of  the  pines. 

They  are  so  long  and  slender; 

And  sometimes,  in  full  view, 
They  have  their  thread  of  cobwebs, 

And  thimbles  made  of  dew. 


A  TEMPLE 

BY  ANNA  BAGSTAD 

Did  many  of  us  ever  really  see  a  tree  ?  We  focus 
our  eyes  on  a  great  many  things  which  in  reality  we 
never  see  at  all.  How  blind  we  are  to  the  common 
things  around  us  —  wilfully  blind  because  they  are 
common!  But  it  is  the  common  things,  after  all, 
that  are  the  most  wonderful. 

Take  one  of  the  thousands  and  millions  of  leaves 
on  a  tree.  What  is  a  leaf  ?  It  may  not  be  so  hard 
to  find  a  fairly  satisfactory  dictionary  definition  for 


156  ARBOR  DAY 

one;  but  with  that  and  a  little  sense-perception, 
our  knowledge  ends.  Any  one  who  could  tell 
us  just  what  a  leaf  is,  and  how  by  some  strange 
action  of  air  and  earth  and  sunlight  it  comes  to 
be  a  leaf  —  his  would  transcend  the  wisdom  of 
the  ages. 

Trees  are  common.  Yes,  but  how  long  did  it 
take  Mother  Nature,  working  incessantly,  to  form 
out  of  the  low,  one-celled  plant,  cruder  and  simpler 
than  any  grass  or  weed  we  know,  the  beautiful, 
noble  monarch  of  the  plant  kingdom  which  we  call 
a  tree  ? 

"  The  groves  were  God's  first  temples."  And  each 
tree  is  a  temple  for  birds  and  bees.  Its  living  col- 
umns are  overlaid  with  the  ruby  and  topaz  of  summer 
sunlight  and  with  the  pearl  and  diamond  dust  of 
winter.  It  is  a  shrine  where  the  spirit  of  man  may 
look  up.  It  is  a  monument  to  what  has  been,  a 
heavenward  pointing  testimony  to  the  Power  that 
lies  at  the  heart  of  things. 


TREES* 

BY  JULIA  ROGERS 

The  meaning  of  trees  in  a  landscape  —  the  beauty 
value  of  them  —  is  oftenest  overlooked  by  those 
who  have  always  seen  them.     When  crossing  such 


♦  From  "  The  Tree  Book,"  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 


THE  REAL  TREE  157 

a  monotonous  stretch  of  treeless  country  as  the  plains 
of  Arizona  that  wait  for  irrigation,  the  Easterner 
for  the  first  time  has  a  full  appreciation  of  the  beauty 
of  his  familiar  wooded  hillsides  and  tree-lined 
streets.  Out  of  the  homesickness  for  forest  scenery, 
as  well  as  the  necessity  for  protection  and  wood 
supply,  came  the  great  tree-planting  crusade  that 
swept  over  the  Middle  West  and  will  yet  dot  every 
state  with  homes  surrounded  by  groves. 


THE  REAL  TREE 

BY  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES 

From  Over  the  Teacups 

What  a  strange  underground  life  is  that  which 
is  lead  by  the  organisms  we  call  trees!  These  great 
fluttering  masses  of  leaves,  stems,  boughs,  trunks, 
are  not  the  real  tree.  They  live  underground,  and 
what  we  see  are  nothing  more  nor  less  than  their 
tails. 

Yes,  a  tree  is  an  underground  creature,  with  its 
tail  in  the  air.  All  its  intelligence  is  in  its  roots. 
All  the  senses  it  has  are  in  its  roots.  Think  what 
sagacity  it  shows  in  its  search  after  food  and  drink! 
Somehow  or  other,  the  rootlets,  which  are  its  ten- 
tacles, find  out  there  is  a  brook  at  a  moderate  dis- 
tance from  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  they  make  for 
it  with  all  their  might.    They  find  every  crack  in 


158  ARBOR  DAY 

the  rocks  where  there  are  a  few  grains  of  the  nour- 
ishing substance  they  care  for,  and  insinuate  them- 
selves into  its  deepest  recesses.  When  spring  and 
summer  come,  they  let  their  tails  grow,  and  delight 
in  whisking  them  about  in  the  wind  or  letting  them 
be  whisked  about  by  it;  for  these  tails  are  poor 
passive  things,  with  very  little  will  of  their  own, 
and  bend  in  whatever  direction  the  wind  chooses 
to  make  them.  The  leaves  make  a  deal  of  noise 
whispering.  I  have  sometimes  thought  I  could 
understand  them,  as  they  talk  with  each  other,  and 
that  they  seemed  to  think  they  made  the  wind  as 
they  wagged  forward  and  back.  Remember  what 
I  say.  The  next  time  you  see  a  tree  waving  in  the 
wind  recollect  that  it  is  the  tail  of  a  great  under- 
ground, many-armed,  polypus-like  creature,  which 
is  as  proud  of  its  caudal  appendage,  especially  in 
the  summer  time,  as  a  peacock  of  his  gorgeous 
expanse  of  plumage. 

Do  you  think  there  is  anything  so  very  odd  about 
that  idea  ?  Once  get  it  well  into  your  head  and  you 
well  find  it  renders  the  landscape  wonderfully 
interesting.  There  are  as  many  kinds  of  tree- 
tails  as  there  are  of  tails  to  dogs  and  other  quad- 
rupeds. Study  them  as  Dady  Gilpin  studied 
them  in  his  "Forest  Scenery,"  but  don't  forget 
that  they  are  only  the  appendage  of  the  under- 
ground vegetable  polypus,  the  true  organism  to 
which  they  belong. 


A  SPRAY  OF  PINE  159 


A  SPRAY  OF  PINE* 

BY  JOHN  BURROUGHS 

From  Signs  and  Seasons 

The  pine  is  the  tree  of  silence.  Who  was  the 
Goddess  of  Silence?  Look  for  her  altars  amid  the 
pines  —  silence  above,  silence  below.  Pass  from 
deciduous  woods  into  pine  woods  of  a  windy  day, 
and  you  think  the  day  has  suddenly  become  calm. 
Then  how  silent  to  the  foot!  One  walks  over  a 
carpet  of  pine  needles  almost  as  noiselessly  as  over 
the  carpets  of  our  dwellings.  Do  these  halls  lead 
to  the  chambers  of  the  great  that  all  noise  should  be 
banished  from  them  ?  Let  the  designers  come  here 
and  get  the  true  pattern  for  a  carpet  —  a  soft  yel- 
lowish brown,  with  only  a  red  leaf,  or  a  bit  of  gray 
moss,  or  a  dusky  lichen  scattered  here  and  there; 
a  background  that  does  not  weary  or  bewilder  the 
eye,  or  insult  the  ground-loving  foot. 

How  friendly  the  pine-tree  is  to  man  —  so  docile 
and  available  as  timber,  and  so  warm  and  protec- 
tive as  shelter.  Its  balsam  is  salve  to  his  wounds, 
its  fragrance  is  long  life  to  his  nostrils;  an  abiding, 
perennial  tree,  tempering  the  climate,  cool  as  mur- 
muring waters  in  summer  and  like  a  wrapping  of 
fur  in  winter. 


*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  MiflSin  &  Co. 


i6o  ARBOR  DAY 

O  DREAMY,  GLOOMY,  FRIENDLY  TREES 

BY   HERBERT  TRENCH 

O  DREAMY,  gloomy,  friendly  Trees, 

I  came  along  your  narrow  track 
To  bring  my  gifts  unto  your  knees, 

And  gifts  did  you  give  back; 
For  when  I  brought  this  heart  that  burns  — 

These  thoughts  that  bitterly  repine  — 
And  laid  them  here  among  the  ferns 

And  the  hum  of  boughs  divine, 
Ye,  vastest  breathers  of  the  air. 

Shook  down  with  slow  and  mighty  poise 
Your  coolness  on  the  human  care. 

Your  wonder  on  its  toys. 
Your  greenness  on  the  heart's  despair, 

Your  darkness  on  its  noise. 


THE  TWIG  THAT  BECAME  A  TREE 

ANONYMOUS 

The  tree  of  which  I  am  about  to  tell  you  was  once 
a  little  twig.  There  were  many  others  like  it,  and 
the  farmer  came  to  look  at  them  every  day,  to  see 
if  they  were  all  doing  well. 

By  and  by  he  began  to  take  away  the  older  and 


THE  TWIG  THAT  BECAME  A  TREE   i6i 

stronger  twigs,  and  one  day  he  dug  up  this  little 
tree  and  carried  it  away  to  an  open  field. 

There  its  roots  were  again  put  into  the  soft, 
warm  ground,  and  it  held  its  pretty  head  up 
as  if  looking  into  the  blue  sky.  Just  at  sunset 
the  farmer's  wife  came  out  to  look  at  the 
new  tree. 

"I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  see  apples  growing  on 
these  twigs,"  she  said. 

The  little  tree  heard  it,  and  said  softly:  "We 
shall  see !  Come,  gentle  rain  and  warm  sun,  and  let 
me  be  the  first  to  give  a  fine,  red  apple  to  the  farmer's 
wife." 

And  the  rain  and  the  sun  did  come,  and  the 
branches  grew,  and  the  roots  dug  deep  into  the  soft 
ground,  and  at  last,  one  bright  spring  day,  the 
farmer's  wife  cried : 

"Just  seel  One  of  our  little  trees  has  some 
blossoms  on  it!  I  believe  that,  small  as  it  is,  it  will 
give  me  an  apple  this  autumn." 

But  the  farmier  laughed  and  said:  "Oh,  it  is  not 
old  enough  to  bear  apples  yet." 

The  little  tree  said  nothing,  but  all  to  itself  it 
thought:  "The  good  woman  shall  have  an  apple 
this  very  year." 

And  she  did.  When  the  cool  days  of  autumn 
came,  and  the  leaves  began  to  fade  and  grow  yellow, 
two  red  apples  hung  upon  one  of  the  branches  of 
the  tree. 


62         ARBOR  DAY 


THE  AGE  OF  TREES 

ANONYMOUS 

Man  counts  his  life  by  years ;  the  oak,  by  centuries. 
At  one  hundred  years  of  age  the  tree  is  but  a  sap- 
ling; at  five  hundred  it  is  mature  and  strong;  at  six 
hundred  the  giant  king  of  the  greenwood  begins  to 
feel  the  touch  of  time;  but  the  decline  is  as  slow  as 
the  growth  was,  and  the  sturdy  old  tree  rears  its 
proud  head  and  reckons  centuries  of  old  age  just 
as  it  reckoned  centuries  of  youth. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  patriarchs  of  the  forest 
laugh  at  history.  Is  it  not  true  ?  Perhaps,  when  the 
balmy  zephyrs  stir  the  trees,  the  leaves  whisper 
strange  stories  to  one  another.  The  oaks  and  the 
pines,  and  their  brethren  of  the  wood,  have  seen  so 
many  suns  rise  and  set,  so  many  seasons  come  and 
go,  and  so  many  generations  pass  into  silence,  that 
we  may  well  wonder  what  "the  story  of  the  trees" 
would  be  to  us  if  they  had  tongues  to  tell  it,  or  we 
ears  fine  enough  to  understand. 


THE  PINE  TREE 

BY  JOHN   RUSKIN 

From  Modern  Painters 
The  tremendous  unity  of  the  pine  absorbs  and 
moulds  the  life  of  a  race.    The  pine  shadows  rest 


THE  TREE  163 

upon  a  nation.  The  northern  peoples,  century- 
after  century,  lived  under  one  or  other  of  the  two 
great  powers  of  the  pine  and  the  sea,  both  infinite. 
They  dwelt  amidst  the  forests  as  they  wandered  on 
the  waves,  and  saw  no  end  nor  any  other  horizon. 
Still  the  dark,  green  trees,  or  the  dark,  green  waters, 
jagged  the  dawn  with  their  fringe  or  their  foam. 
And  whatever  elements  of  imagination,  or  of  warrior 
strength,  or  of  domestic  justice,  were  brought  down 
by  the  Norwegian  or  the  Goth  against  the  dissolute- 
ness or  degradation  of  the  south  of  Europe,  were 
taught  them  under  the  green  roofs  and  wild  pene- 
tralia of  the  pine. 


THE  TREE* 

BY  JONES  VERY 

I  LOVE  thee  when  thy  swelling  buds  appear 

And  one  by  one  their  tender  leaves  unfold, 
As  if  they  knew  that  warmer  suns  were  near. 

Nor  longer  sought  to  hide  from  winter's  cold: 
And  when  with  darker  growth  thy  leaves  are  seen. 

To  veil  from  view  the  early  robin's  nest, 
I  love  to  lie  beneath  thy  waving  screen 

With  limbs  by  summer's  heat  and  toil  oppressed; 
And  when  the  autumn  winds  have  stripped  thee  bare, 

And  round  thee  lies  the  smooth,  untrodden  snow, 

*  By  permission  of  the  Century  Company,  New  York. 


i64  ARBOR  DAY 

When  naught  is  thine  that  made  thee  once  so  fair, 

I  love  to  watch  thy  shadowy  form  below, 
And  through  thy  leafless  arms  to  look  above 
On  stars  that  brighter  beam,  when  most  we  need 
their  love. 


THE  GLORY  OF  THE  WOODS* 

BY   SUSAN  FENIMORE   COOPER 

Of  the  infinite  variety  of  fruits  which  spring 
from  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  the  trees  of  the 
wood  are  greatest  in  dignity.  Of  all  the  works 
of  the  creation  which  know  the  changes  of  life 
and  death,  the  trees  of  the  forest  have  the 
longest  existence.  Of  all  the  objects  which 
crown  the  gray  earth,  the  woods  preserve  un- 
changed, throughout  the  greatest  reach  of  time, 
their  native  character.  The  works  of  man  are 
ever  varying  their  aspect;  his  towns  and  his  fields 
alike  reflect  the  unstable  opinions,  the  fickle 
wills  and  fancies  of  each  passing  generation;  but 
the  forests  on  his  borders  remain  to-day  the  same 
as  they  were  ages  of  years  since.  Old  as  the  ever- 
lasting hills,  during  thousands  of  seasons  they  have 
put  forth  and  laid  down  their  verdure  in  calm  obe- 
dience to  the  decree  which  first  bade  them  cover  the 
ruins  of  the  Deluge. 

*  By  permission  of  the  Baker  and  Taylor  Company,  New  York. 


THE  AMERICAN  FORESTS  165 


THE  AMERICAN  FORESTS* 

BY  JOHN  MUIR 

The  forests  of  America,  however  slighted  by  man, 
must  have  been  a  great  delight  to  God;  for  they  were 
the  best  He  had  ever  planted.  The  whole  continent 
was  a  garden,  and  from  the  beginning  it  seemed 
to  be  favored  above  all  the  other  wild  parks  and 
gardens  of  the  globe.  To  prepare  the  ground,  it 
was  rolled  and  sifted  in  seas  with  infinite  loving 
deliberation  and  forethought,  lifted  into  the  light, 
submerged  and  warmed  over  and  over  again,  pressed 
and  crumpled  into  folds  and  ridges,  mountains  and 
hills,  subsoiled  with  heaving  volcanic  fires,  plowed 
and  ground  and  sculptured  into  scenery  and  soil 
with  glaciers  and  rivers  —  every  feature  growing 
and  changing  from  beauty  to  beauty,  higher  and 
higher.  And  in  the  fulness  of  time  it  was  planted 
in  groves,  and  belts,  and  broad,  exuberant,  mant- 
ling forests,  with  the  largest,  most  varied,  most 
fruitful,  and  most  beautiful  trees  in  the  world. 
Bright  seas  made  its  border  with  wave  embroidery 
and  icebergs;  gray  deserts  were  outspread  in  the 
middle  of  it,  mossy  tundras  on  the  north,  savannas 
on  the  south,  and  blooming  prairies  and  plains; 
while  lakes  and  rivers  shone  through  all  the  vast 
forests  and  openings,  and  happy  birds  and  beasts 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


i66  ARBOR  DAY 

gave  delightful  animation.  Everywhere,  every- 
where over  all  the  blessed  continent,  there  were 
beauty,  and  melody,  and  kindly,  wholesome,  food- 
ful  abundance. 

These  forests  were  composed  of  about  five  hun- 
dred species  of  trees,  all  of  them  in  some  way  useful 
to  man,  ranging  in  size  from  twenty-five  feet  in 
height  and  less  than  one  foot  in  diameter  at  the 
ground,  to  four  hundred  feet  in  height  and  more  than 
twenty  feet  in  diameter  — lordly  monarchs  pro- 
claiming the  gospel  of  beauty  like  apostles.  For 
many  a  century  after  the  ice-plows  were  melted, 
nature  fed  them  and  dressed  them  every  day;  work- 
ing like  a  man,  a  loving,  devoted,  painstaking 
gardener;  fingering  every  leaf  and  flower  and 
mossy  furrowed  bole;  bending,  trimming,  modeling, 
balancing,  painting  them  with  the  loveliest  colors; 
bringing  over  them  now  clouds  with  cooling  shadows 
and  showers,  now  sunshine;  fanning  them  with 
gentle  winds  and  rustling  their  leaves;  exercising 
them  in  every  fibre  with  storms,  and  pruning  them; 
loading  them  with  flowers  and  fruit,  loading  them 
with  snow,  and  ever  making  them  more  beautiful 
as  the  years  rolled  by. 

In  the  settlement  and  civilization  of  the  country; 
bread  more  than  timber  or  beauty,  was  wanted; 
and  in  the  blindness  of  hunger,  the  early  settlers, 
claiming  Heaven  as  their  guide,  regarded  God's 


THE  AMERICAN  FORESTS  167 

trees  as  only  a  larger  kind  of  pernicious  weeds, 
extremely  hard  to  get  rid  of.  Accordingly,  with 
no  eye  to  the  future,  these  pious  destroyers  waged 
interminable  forest  wars;  chips  flew  thick  and  fast; 
trees  in  their  beauty  fell  crashing  by  millions, 
smashed  to  confusion,  and  the  smoke  of  their  burn- 
ing has  been  rising  to  heaven  more  than  two  hundred 
years.  After  the  Atlantic  coast  from  Maine  to 
Georgia  had  been  mostly  cleared  and  scorched  into 
melancholy  ruins,  the  overflowing  multitude  of 
bread  and  money  seekers  poured  over  the  Alle- 
ghenies  into  the  fertile  Middle  West,  spreading 
ruthless  devastation  ever  wider  and  farther  over  the 
rich  valley  of  the  Mississippi  and  the  vast,  shadowy 
pine  region  about  the  Great  Lakes.  Thence  still 
westward  the  invading  horde  of  destroyers,  called 
settlers,  made  its  fiery  way  over  the  broad  Rocky 
Mountains,  felling  and  burning  more  fiercely  than 
ever,  until  at  last  it  has  reached  the  wild  side  of  the 
continent,  and  entered  the  last  of  the  great  abor- 
iginal forests  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacific. 

Surely,  then,  it  should  not  be  wondered  at  that 
lovers  of  their  country,  bewailing  its  baldness,  are 
now  crying  aloud :  "  Save  what  is  left  of  the  forests!" 
Clearing  has  surely  now  gone  far  enough;  soon  timber 
will  be  scarce,  and  not  a  grove  will  be  left  to  rest  in  or 
pray  in.  The  remnant  protected  will  yield  plenty 
of  timber,  a  perennial  harvest  for  every  right  use, 
without  further  diminution  of  its  area,  and  will 


i68  ARBOR  DAY 

continue  to  cover  the  springs  of  the  rivers  that  rise 
in  the  mountains  and  give  irrigating  waters  to  the 
dry  valleys  at  their  feet,  prevent  wasting  floods,  and 
be  a  blessing  to  everybody  forever. 

Every  other  civilized  nation  in  the  world  has  been 
compelled  to  care  for  its  forests,  and  so  we  must  if 
waste  and  destruction  are  not  to  go  on  to  the  bitter 
end,  leaving  America  as  barren  as  Palestine  or 
Spain.  In  its  calmer  moments  in  the  midst  of 
bewildering  hunger  and  war  and  restless  over-indus- 
try, Prussia  has  learned  that  the  forest  plays  an 
important  part  in  human  progress,  and  that  the 
advance  in  civilization  only  makes  it  more  indis- 
pensable. It  has,  therefore,  as  shown  by  Mr. 
Pinchot,  refused  to  deliver  its  forests  to  more  or  less 
speedy  destruction  by  permitting  them  to  pass  into 
private  ownership.  But  the  state  woodlands  are 
not  allowed  to  lie  idle.  On  the  contrary,  they  are 
made  to  produce  as  much  timber  as  is  possible 
without  spoiling  them.  In  the  administration  of 
its  forests,  the  state  righteously  considers  itself 
bound  to  treat  them  as  a  trust  for  the  nation  as  a 
whole,  and  to  keep  in  view  the  common  good  of  the 
people  for  all  time. 

In  France  no  government  forests  have  been  sold 
since  1870.  On  the  other  hand,  about  one  half  of  the 
fifty  million  francs  spent  on  forestry  has  been  given 
to  engineering  works,  to  make  the  replanting  of 
denuded  areas  possible.    The  disappearance  of  the 


THE  AMERICAN  FORESTS  169 

forests  in  the  first  place,  it  is  claimed,  may  be  traced 
in  most  cases  directly  to  mountain  pasturage.  The 
provisions  of  the  code  concerning  private  woodlands 
are  substantially  these :  No  private  owner  may  clear 
his  woodlands  without  giving  notice  to  the  govern- 
ment at  least  four  months  in  advance,  and  the 
forest  service  may  forbid  the  clearing  on  the  following 
grounds:  to  maintain  the  soil  on  mountains,  to 
defend  the  soil  against  erosion  and  flooding  by  rivers 
or  torrents,  to  insure  the  existence  of  springs  and 
watercourses,  to  protect  the  dunes  and  seashore, 
etc.  A  proprietor  who  has  cleared  his  forest  with- 
out permission  is  subject  to  heavy  fine,  and  in  addi- 
tion may  be  made  to  replant  the  cleared  area. 

In  Switzerland,  after  many  laws  like  our  own  had 
been  found  wanting,  the  Swiss  forest  school  was 
established  in  1865,  and  soon  after  the  Federal 
Forest  Law  was  enacted,  which  is  binding  over 
nearly^ 'two- thirds  of  the  country.  Under  its  pro- 
visions, the  cantons  must  appoint  and  pay  the  num- 
ber of  suitably  educated  foresters  required  for  the 
fulfilment  of  the  forest  law;  and  in  the  organization 
of  a  normally  stocked  forest,  the  object  of  first 
importance  must  be  the  cutting  each  year  of  an 
amount  of  timber  equal  to  the  total  annual  increase, 
and  no  more. 

The  Russian  government  passed  a  law  in  1888, 
declaring  that  clearing  is  forbidden  in  protected 
forests,  and  is  allowed  in  others  "only  when  its 


I70  ARBOR  DAY 

effects  will  not  be  to  disturb  the  suitable  relations 
which  should  exist  between  forest  and  agricul- 
tural lands." 

Even  Japan  is  ahead  of  us  in  the  management 
of  her  forests.  They  cover  an  area  of  about 
29,000,000  acres.  The  feudal  lords  valued  the 
woodlands,  and  enacted  vigorous  protective  laws; 
and  when,  in  the  latest  civil  war,  the  Mikado  gov- 
ernment destroyed  the  feudal  system,  it  declared  the 
forests  that  had  belonged  to  the  feudal  lords  to  be 
the  property  of  the  state,  promulgated  a  forest  law 
binding  on  the  whole  kingdom,  and  founded  a  school 
of  forestry  in  Tokio.  The  forest  service  does  not 
rest  satisfied  with  the  present  proportion  of  wood- 
land, but  looks  to  planting  the  best  forest  trees  it 
can  find  in  any  country,  if  likely  to  be  useful  and  to 
thrive  in  Japan. 

In  India  systematic  forest  management  was 
begun  about  forty  years  ago,  under  difficulties  — 
presented  by  the  character  of  the  country,  the  prev- 
alence of  running  fires,  opposition  from  lumbermen, 
settlers,  etc.  —  not  unlike  those  which  confront 
us  now.  Of  the  total  area  of  government  forests, 
perhaps  70,000,000  acres,  55,000,000  acres  have 
been  brought  under  the  control  of  the  forestry 
department  —  a  larger  area  than  that  of  all  our 
national  parks  and  reservations.  The  chief  aims 
of  the  administration  are  effective  protection  of  the 
forests  from  fire,  an  efficient  system  of  regeneration 


THE  AMERICAN  FORESTS  171 

and  cheap  transportation  of  the  forest  products;  the 
results  so  far  have  been  most  beneficial  and 
encouraging. 

It  seems,  therefore,  that  almost  every  civilized 
nation  can  give  us  a  lesson  on  the  management  and 
care  of  forests.  So  far  our  Government  has  done 
nothing  effective  with  its  forests,  though  the  best 
in  the  world,  but  is  like  a  rich  and  foolish  spend- 
thrift who  has  inherited  a  magnificent  estate  in  per- 
fect order,  and  then  has  left  his  rich  fields  and 
meadows,  forests  and  parks,  to  be  sold  and  plun- 
dered and  wasted  at  will,  depending  on  their  inex- 
haustible abundance.  Now  it  is  plain  that  the 
forests  are  not  inexhaustible,  and  that  quick  meas- 
ures must  be  taken  if  ruin  is.  to  be  avoided.  Year  by 
year  the  remnant  is  growing  smaller  before  the  axe 
and  fire,  while  the  laws  in  existence  provide  neither 
for  the  protection  of  the  timber  from  destruction  nor 
for  its  use  where  it  is  most  needed. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  waste  and  use  which  have 
been  going  on  unchecked  like  a  storm  for  more  than 
two  centuries,  it  is  not  yet  too  late,  though  it  is  high 
time,  for  the  Government  to  begin  a  rational  admin- 
istration of  its  forests.  About  seventy  million  acres 
it  still  owns  —  enough  for  all  the  country,  if  wisely 
used.  These  residual  forests  are  generally  on  moun- 
tain slopes,  just  where  they  are  doing  the  most  good, 
and  where  their  removal  would  be  followed  by 


172  ARBOR  DAY 

the  greatest  number  of  evils;  the  lands  they  cover 
are  too  rocky  and  high  for  agriculture,  and  can  never 
be  made  as  valuable  for  any  other  crop  as  for  the 
present  crop  of  trees.  It  has  been  shown  over 
and  over  again  that  if  these  mountains  were  to  be 
stripped  of  their  trees  and  underbrush,  and  kept 
bare  and  sodless  by  hordes  of  sheep  and  the  innumer- 
able fires  the  shepherds  set,  besides  those  of  the 
millmen,  prospectors,  shake-makers,  and  all  sorts 
of  adventurers,  both  lowlands  and  mountains  would 
speedily  become  little  better  than  deserts,  compared 
with  their  present  beneficent  fertility.  During 
heavy  rainfalls  and  while  the  winter  accumulations 
of  snow  were  melting,  the  larger  streams  would 
swell  into  destructive  torrents ;  cutting  deep,  rugged- 
edged  gullies,  carrying  away  the  fertile  humus  and 
soil  as  well  as  sand  and  rocks,  filling  up  and  over- 
flowing their  lower  channels,  and  covering  the  low- 
land fields  with  raw  detritus.  Drought  and  bar- 
renness would  follow. 

In  their  natural  condition,  or  under  wise  manage- 
ment, keeping  out  destructive  sheep,  preventing 
fires,  selecting  the  trees  that  should  be  cut  for  lumber, 
and  preserving  the  young  ones  and  the  shrubs  and 
sod  of  herbaceous  vegetation,  these  forests  would  be 
a  never-failing  fountain  of  wealth  and  beauty. 
The  cool  shades  of  the  forest  give  rise  to  moist  beds 
and  currents  of  air,  and  the  sod  of  grasses  and  the 
various  flowering  plants  and  shrubs  thus  fostered, 


THE  AMERICAN  FORESTS  173 

together  with  the  network  and  sponge  of  tree  roots, 
absorb  and  hold  back  the  rain  and  the  waters  from 
melting  snow,  compelling  them  to  ooze  and  perco- 
late and  flow  gently  through  the  soil  in  streams  that 
never  dry.  All  the  pine  needles  and  rootlets  and 
blades  of  grass,  and  the  fallen,  decaying  trunks  of 
trees,  are  dams,  storing  the  bounty  of  the  clouds  and 
dispensing  it  in  perennial  hfe-giving  streams,  instead 
of  allowing  it  to  gather  suddenly  and  rush  headlong 
in  short-lived  devastating  floods.  Everybody  on 
the  dry  side  of  the  continent  is  beginning  to  find  this 
out,  and,  in  view  of  the  waste  going  on,  is  growing 
more  and  more  anxious  for  Government  protection. 
The  outcries  we  hear  against  forest  reservations 
come  mostly  from  thieves  who  are  wealthy  and  steal 
timber  by  wholesale.  They  have  so  long  been 
allowed  to  steal  and  destroy  in  peace  that  any 
impediment  to  forest  robbery  is  denounced  as  a  cruel 
and  irreligious  interference  with  "vested  rights," 
likely  to  endanger  the  repose  of  all  ungodly  welfare. 

Gold,  gold,  gold!    How  strong  a  voice  that  metal 
has  I 

O  wae  for  the  siller,  it  is  sae  preva'lin'. 

Even  in  Congress,  a  sizable  chunk  of  gold,  carefully 
concealed,  will  outtalk  and  outfight  all  the  nation 
on  a  subject  like  forestry,  well-smothered  in  ignor- 
ance, and  in  which  the  money  interests  of  only 
a  few  are  conspicuously  involved.  Under  these 
circumstances,   the   bawling,   blethering   oratorical 


174  ARBOR  DAY 

stuff  drowns  the  voice  of  God  Himself.  Yet  the 
dawn  of  a  new  day  in  forestry  is  breaking.  Honest 
citizens  see  that  only  the  rights  of  the  Government 
are  being  trampled,  not  those  of  the  settlers.  Merely 
what  belongs  to  all  alike  is  reserved,  and  every  acre 
that  is  left  should  be  held  together  under  the  Federal 
Government  as  a  basis  for  a  general  policy  of  admin- 
istration for  the  public  good.  The  people  will  not 
always  be  deceived  by  selfish  opposition,  whether 
from  lumber  and  mining  corporations  or  from 
sheepmen  and  prospectors,  however  cunningly 
brought  forward  underneath  fables  and  gold. 

Emerson  says  that  things  refuse  to  be  mismanaged 
long.  An  exception  would  seem  to  be  found  in  the 
case  of  our  forests,  which  have  been  mismanaged 
rather  long,  and  now  come  desperately  near  being 
like  smashed  eggs  and  spilt  milk.  Still,  in  the 
long  run  the  world  does  not  move  backward.  The 
wonderful  advance  made  in  the  last  few  years,  in 
creating  four  national  parks  in  the  West,  and  thirty 
forest  reservations,  embracing  nearly  forty  million 
acres;  and  in  the  planting  of  the  borders  of  streets 
and  highways  and  spacious  parks  in  all  the  great 
cities,  to  satisfy  the  natural  taste  and  hunger  for 
landscape  beauty  and  righteousness  that  God  has 
put,  in  some  measure,  into  every  human  being  and 
animal,  shows  the  trend  of  awakening  public  opinion. 
The  making  of  the  far-famed  New  York  Central 
Park  was  opposed  by  even  good  men,  with  mis- 


THE  AMERICAN  FORESTS  175 

guided  pluck,  perseverance,  and  ingenuity,  but 
straight  right  won  its  way,  and  now  that  park  is 
appreciated.  So  we  confidently  believe  it  will  be 
with  our  great  national  parks  and  forest  reserva- 
tions. There  will  be  a  period  of  indifiference  on  the 
part  of  the  rich,  sleepy  with  wealth,  and  of  the  toil- 
ing millions,  sleepy  with  poverty,  most  of  whom 
never  saw  a  forest;  a  period  of  screaming  protest 
and  objection  from  the  plunderers,  who  are  as 
unconscionable  and  enterprising  as  Satan.  But 
light  is  surely  coming,  and  the  friends  of  destruc- 
tion will  preach  and  bewail  in  vain. 

The  United  States  Government  has  always  been 
proud  of  the  welcome  it  has  extended  to  good  men 
of  every  nation,  seeking  freedom  and  homes  and 
bread.  Let  them  be  welcomed  still  as  nature  wel- 
comes them,  to  the  woods  as  well  as  to  the  prairies 
and  plains.  No  place  is  too  good  for  good  men, 
and  still  there  is  room.  They  are  invited  to  heaven, 
and  may  well  be  allowed  in  America.  Every  place 
is  made  better  by  them.  Let  them  be  as  free  to 
pick  gold  and  gems  from  the  hills,  to  cut  and  hew, 
dig  and  plant,  for  homes  and  bread,  as  the  birds 
are  to  pick  berries  from  the  wild  bushes,  and  moss 
and  leaves  for  nests.  The  ground  will  be  glad  to 
feed  them,  and  the  pines  will  come  down  from  the 
mountains  for  their  homes  as  willingly  as  the  cedars 
came  from  Lebanon  for  Solomon's  temple.  Nor 
will  the  woods  be  the  worse  for  this  use,  or  their 


176  ARBOR  DAY 

benign  influences  be  diminished  any  more  than  the 
sun  is  diminished  by  shining.  Mere  destroyers, 
however,  tree-killers,  spreading  death  and  confusion 
in  the  fairest  groves  and  gardens  ever  planted,  let 
the  Government  hasten  to  cast  them  out  and  make 
an  end  of  them.  For  it  must  be  told  again  and 
again,  and  be  bumingly  borne  in  mind,  that  just 
now,  while  protective  measures  are  being  deliber- 
ated languidly,  destruction  and  use  are  speeding 
on  faster  and  farther  every  day.  The  axe  and  saw 
are  insanely  busy,  chips  are  flying  thick  as  snow- 
flakes,  and  every  summer  thousands  of  acres  of  price- 
less forests,  with  their  underbrush,  soil,  springs, 
climate,  scenery,  and  religion,  are  vanishing  away 
in  clouds  of  smoke,  while,  except  in  the  national 
parks,  not  one  forest  guard  is  employed. 

All  sorts  of  local  laws  and  regulations  have  been 
tried  and  found  wanting,  and  the  costly  lessons  of  our 
experience,  as  well  as  that  of  every  civilized  nation, 
show  exclusively  that  the  fate  of  the  remnant  of  our 
forests  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Federal  Government, 
and  that  if  the  remnant  is  to  be  saved  at  all,  it  must 
be  saved  quickly. 

Any  fool  can  destroy  trees.  They  cannot  run 
away;  and  if  they  could,  they  would  still  be  de- 
stroyed —  chased  and  hunted  down  as  long  as  fun 
or  a  dollar  could  be  got  out  of  their  bark  hides, 
branching  horns,  or  magnificent  bole  backbones. 
Few  that  fell  trees  plant  them;  nor  would  plant- 


TALKING  IN  THEIR  SLEEP         177 

ing  avail  much  toward  getting  back  anything  like 
the  noble  primeval  forests.  During  a  man's  life  only 
saplings  can  be  grown,  in  the  place  of  the  old  trees  — 
tens  of  centuries  old  —  that  have  been  destroyed. 
It  took  more  than  three  thousand  years  to  make 
some  of  the  trees  in  these  Western  woods  —  trees 
that  are  still  standing  in  perfect  strength  and  beauty, 
waving  and  singing  in  the  mighty  forests  of  the 
Sierra.  Through  all  the  wonderful,  eventful  cen- 
turies since  Christ's  time  —  and  long  before  that  — 
God  has  cared  for  these  trees,  saved  them  from 
drought,  disease,  avalanches,  and  a  thousand 
straining,  leveling  tempests  and  jfloods;  but  He  cannot 
save  them  from  fools  —  only  Uncle  Sam  can  do  that. 


TALKING  IN  THEIR  SLEEP* 

BY  EDITH  M.   THOMAS 

"You  think  I  am  dead," 

The  apple-tree  said, 
"Because  I  have  never  a  leaf  to  show  — 

Because  I  stoop 

And  my  branches  droop, 
And  the  dull  gray  mosses  over  me  grow! 
But  I'm  alive  in  trunk  and  shoot; 

The  buds  of  next  May 

I  fold  away  — 
But  I  pity  the  withered  grass  at  my  foot." 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miflflin  &  Co. 


178  ARBOR  DAY 

"You  think  I  am  dead," 

The  quick  grass  said, 
"Because  I  have  parted  with  stem  and  blade! 

But  under  the  ground 

I  am  safe  and  sound, 
With  the  snow's  thick  blanket  over  me  laid. 
I'm  all  alive,  and  ready  to  shoot 

Should  the  spring  of  the  year 

Come  dancing  here  — 
But  I  pity  the  flower  without  branch  or  root." 

"You  think  I  am  dead," 

A  soft  voice  said, 
"Because  not  a  branch  or  root  I  own! 

I  never  have  died. 

But  close  I  hide 
In  a  plumy  seed  that  the  wind  has  sown. 
Patient  I  wait  through  the  long  winter  hours; 

You  will  see  me  again  — 

I  shall  laugh  at  you  then, 
Out  of  the  eyes  of  a  hundred  flowers!" 


THE  FOREST 

BY  RICHARD  JEFFERIES 

From  The  open  Air 
Under  the  trees  the  imagination  plays  unchecked, 
and  calls  up  the  past  as  if  yew  bow  and  broad  arrow 


THE  FOREST  179 

were  still  in  the  hunter's  hands.  So  little  is  changed 
since  then.  The  deer  are  here  still.  Sit  down 
on  the  root  of  this  oak  (thinly  covered  with  moss), 
and  on  that  very  spot  it  is  quite  possible  a  knight 
fresh  home  from  the  Crusades  may  have  rested  and 
feasted  his  eyes  on  the  lovely  green  glades  of  his  own 
unsurpassed  England.  The  oak  was  there  then, 
young  and  strong;  it  is  here  now,  ancient,  but  sturdy. 
Rarely  do  you  see  an  oak  fall  of  itself.  It  decays 
to  the  last  stump;  it  does  not  fall.  The  sounds 
are  the  same  —  the  tap  as  a  ripe  acorn  drops,  the 
rustle  of  a  leaf  which  comes  down  slowly,  the  quick 
rushes  of  mice  playing  in  the  fern.  A  movement 
at  one  side  attracts  the  glance,  and  there  is  a  squirrel 
darting  about.  There  is  another  at  the  very  top 
of  the  beech  yonder  out  on  the  boughs,  nibbling  the 
nuts.  A  brown  spot  a  long  distance  down  the  glade 
suddenly  moves,  and  thereby  shows  itself  to  be  a 
rabbit.  The  bellowing  sound  that  comes  now  and 
then  is  from  the  stags,  which  are  preparing  to  fight. 
The  swine  snort,  and  the  mast  and  leaves  rustle  as 
they  thrust  them  aside.  So  little  is  changed; 
these  are  the  same  sounds  and  the  same  movements, 
just  as  in  the  olden  time. 

The  soft  autumn  sunshine,  shorn  of  summer 
glare,  lights  up  with  color  the  fern,  the  fronds  of 
which  are  yellow  and  brown,  the  leaves,  the  gray 
grass,  and  hawthorn  sprays  already  turned.  It 
seems  as  if  the  early  morning's  mists  have  the  power 


i8o  ARBOR  DAY 

of  tinting  leaf  and  fern,  for  so  soon  as  they  commence 
the  green  hues  begin  to  disappear.  There  are 
swathes  of  fern  yonder,  cut  down  like  grass  or  corn, 
the  harvest  of  the  forest.  It  will  be  used  for  litter 
and  for  thatching  sheds.  The  yellow  stalks  — 
the  stubble  —  will  turn  brown  and  wither  through 
the  winter,  till  the  strong  spring  shoot  comes  up  and 
the  anemones  flower.  Though  the  sunbeams  reach 
the  ground  here,  half  the  green  glade  is  in  shadow, 
and  for  one  step  that  you  walk  in  sunlight  ten  are 
in  shade.  Thus,  partly  concealed  in  full  day,  the 
forest  always  contains  a  mystery.  The  idea  that 
there  may  be  something  in  the  dim  arches  held  up  by 
the  round  columns  of  the  beeches  lures  the  foot- 
steps onward.  Something  must  have  been  lately 
in  the  circle  under  the  oak  where  the  fern  and 
bushes  remain  at  a  distance  and  wall  in  a  lawn  of 
green.  There  is  nothing  on  the  grass  but  the  upheld 
leaves  that  have  dropped,  no  mark  of  any  creature, 
but  this  is  not  decisive;  if  there  are  no  physical  signs, 
there  is  a  feeling  that  the  shadow  is  not  vacant.  In 
the  thickets,  perhaps  —  the  shadowy  thickets  with 
front  of  thorn  —  it  has  taken  refuge  and  eluded  us. 
Still  onward  the  shadows  lead  us  in  vain  but  pleas- 
ant chase. 

The  oaks  keep  a  circle  round  their  base  and  stand 
at  a  majestic  distance  from  each  other,  so  that 
the  wind  and  the  sunshine  enter,  and  their  precincts 


THE  FOREST  i8i 

are  sweet  and  pleasant.  The  elms  gather  together, 
rubbing  their  branches  in  the  gale  till  the  bark  is  worn 
off  and  the  boughs  die;  the  shadow  is  deep  under 
them,  and  moist,  favorable  to  rank  grass  and  coarse 
mushrooms.  Beneath  the  ashes,  after  the  first 
frost,  the  air  is  full  of  the  bitterness  of  their  blackened 
leaves,  which  have  all  come  down  at  once.  By 
the  beeches  there  is  little  underwood,  and  the  hollows 
are  filled  ankle-deep  with  their  leaves.  From  the 
pines  comes  a  fragrant  odor,  and  thus  the  character 
of  each  group  dominates  the  surrounding  ground. 
The  shade  is  too  much  for  many  flowers,  which 
prefer  the  nooks  of  hedgerows.  If  there  is  no 
scope  for  the  use  of  "express"  rifles,  this  southern 
forest  really  is  a  forest  and  not  an  open  hillside. 
It  is  a  forest  of  trees,  and  there  are  no  woodlands, 
so  beautiful  and  enjoyable  as  these,  where  it  is 
possible  to  be  lost  a  while  without  fear  of  serious 
consequences;  where  you  can  walk  without  stepping 
up  to  the  waist  in  a  decayed  tree-trunk,  or  flounder- 
ing in  a  bog;  where  neither  venomous  snake  nor 
torturing  mosquito  causes  constant  apprehensions 
and  constant  irritation.  To  the  eye  there  is  noth- 
ing but  beauty;  to  the  imagination  pleasant  pageants 
of  old  time;  to  the  ear  the  soothing  cadence  of  the 
leaves  as  the  gentle  breeze  goes  over.  The  beeches 
rear  their  Gothic  architecture;  the  oaks  are  planted 
firm  like  castles,  unassailable.  Quick  squirrels 
climb  and  dart  hither  and  thither,  deer  cross  the 


i82  ARBOR  DAY 

distant  glade,     and,  occasionally,  a  hawk  passes 
like  thought. 

The  something  that  may  be  in  the  shadow  or  the 
thicket,  the  vain,  pleasant  chase  that  beckons  us 
on,  still  leads  the  footsteps  from  tree  to  tree,  till  by 
and  by  a  lark  sings,  and,  going  to  look  for  it,  we  find 
the  stubble  outside  the  forest  —  stubble  still  bright 
with  the  blue  and  white  flowers  of  gray  speedwell. 
One  of  the  earliest  to  bloom  in  the  spring,  it  con- 
tinues till  the  plow  comes  again  in  autumn. 
Now  looking  back  from  the  open  stubble  on  the  high 
wall  of  trees,  the  touch  of  autumn  here  and  there 
is  the  more  visible  —  oaks  dotted  with  brown,  horse 
chestnuts  yellow,  maples  orange,  and  the  bushes 
beneath  red  with  haws. 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  PINE* 

BY  RICHARD  WATSON  GILDER 

'Tis  night  upon  the  lake.    Our  bed  of  boughs 
Is  built  where,  high  above,  the  pine-tree  soughs. 
'Tis  still  —  and  yet  what  woody  noises  loom 
Against  the  background  of  the  silent  gloom! 
One  well  might  hear  the  opening  of  a  flower 
If  day  were  hushed  as  this.    A  mimic  shower 
Just  shaken  from  a  branch,  how  large  it  sounded. 
As  'gainst  our  canvas  roof  its  three  drops  bounded! 

*  By  pennission  of  the  Century  Company,  New  York. 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  PINE      183 

Across  the  rumpling  waves  the  hoot-owPs  bark 
Tolls  forth  the  midnight  hour  upon  the  dark. 
What  mellow  booming  from  the  hills  doth  come  ? 
The  mountain  quarry  strikes  its  mighty  drum. 

Long  had  we  lain  beside  our  pine-wood  fire, 
From  things  of  sport  our  talk  had  risen  higher. 
How  frank  and  intimate  the  words  of  men 
When  tented  lonely  in  some  forest  glen! 
No  dallying  now  with  masks,  from  whence  emerges 
Scarce  one  true  feature  forth.    The  night-wind  urges 
To  straight  and  simple  speech.     So  we  had  thought 
Aloud;  no  secrets  but  to  light  were  brought. 
The  hid  and  spiritual  hopes,  the  wild. 
Unreasoned  longings  that,  from  child  to  child, 
Mortals  still  cherish  (though  with  modem  shame)  — 
To  these,  and  things  like  these,  we  gave  a  name; 
And  as  we  talked,  the  intense  and  resinous  fire 
Lit  up  the  towering  boles,  till  nigh  and  nigher 
They  gathered  round,  a  ghostly  company, 
Like  beasts  who  seek  to  know  what  men  may  be. 

Then  to  our  hemlock  beds,  but  not  to  sleep — 

For  listening  to  the  stealthy  steps  that  creep 

About  the  tent,  or  falling  branch,  but  most 

A  noise  was  like  the  rustling  of  a  host. 

Or  like  the  sea  that  breaks  upon  the  shore  — 

It  was  the  pine-tree's  murmur.     More  and  more 

It  took  a  human  sound.    These  words  I  felt 

Into  the  skyey  darkness  float  and  melt: 


i84  ARBOR   DAY 

''Heardst  thou  these  wanderers  reasoning  of  a  time 
When  men  more  near  the  Eternal  One  shall  climb  ? 
How  like  the  new-born  child,  who  cannot  tell 
A  mother's  arm  that  wraps  it  warm  and  well! 
Leaves  of  His  rose ;  drops  in  His  sea  that  flow  — 
Are  they,  alas!  so  blind  they  may  not  know 
Here,  in  this  breathing  world  of  joy  and  fear, 
They  can  no  nearer  get  to  God  than  here  ?" 


FORMS  AND  EXPRESSIONS  OF  TREES 

BY  WILSON  FLAGG 

The  different  forms  of  trees,  and  their  endless 
variety  of  foliage  and  spray,  have,  from  the  earliest 
times,  been  favorite  studies  of  the  painter  and  the 
naturalist.  Not  only  has  each  species  certain  dis- 
tinguishing marks,  but  their  specific  characters 
are  greatly  modified  in  individual  trees.  The 
Psalmist  compares  a  godly  man  to  a  tree  that  is 
planted  by  rivers  of  water,  whose  leaf  shall  not 
wither  —  seeing  in  the  stateliness  and  beauty  of 
such  a  tree  an  emblem  of  the  noble  virtues  of  the 
human  heart.  Trees  are  distinguished  by  their 
grandeur  or  their  elegance,  by  their  primness  or 
their  grace,  by  the  stiffness  of  their  leaves  and 
branches,  or  by  their  waving  and  tremulous  motions. 
Some  stand  forth  as  if  in  defiance  of  the  wind  and 
the  tempest;  others,  with  long,  drooping  branches, 


TREE  FORMS  AND  EXPRESSIONS   185 

find  security  in  bending  to  the  gale,  like  the  slender 
herbs  in  the  meadow. 

Trees  are  generally  classed  as  landscape  orna- 
ments, according  to  their  general  outlines.  "  Some 
trees  ascend  vertically,"  says  St.  Pierre,  *'and  hav- 
ing arrived  at  a  certain  height,  in  an  air  perfectly 
unobstructed,  fork  off  in  various  tiers,  and  send  out 
their  branches  horizontally,  like  an  apple-tree;  or 
incline  them  toward  the  earth,  like  a  fir;  or  hollow 
them  in  the  form  of  a  cup,  like  the  sassafras;  or  round 
them  into  the  shape  of  a  mushroom,  like  the  pine; 
or  straighten  them  into  a  pyramid,  like  the  poplar; 
or  roll  them  as  wool  upon  the  distaff,  like  the  cypress; 
or  suffer  them  to  float  at  the  discretion  of  the  winds, 
like  the  birch."  These  are  the  normal  varieties 
in  the  shape  of  trees.  Others  may  be  termed  acci- 
dental, like  those  of  the  tall  and  imperfectly  devel- 
oped trees,  which  have  been  cramped  by  growing 
in  dense  assemblages,  and  of  the  pollards  that  have 
issued  from  the  stumps  and  roots  of  other  trees. 

Trees  are  generally  wanting  in  that  kind  of  beauty 
which  we  admire  in  a  vase,  or  an  elegant  piece  of 
furniture.  They  have  more  of  those  qualities 
we  look  for  in  a  picture  and  in  the  ruder  works  of 
architecture.  Nature  is  neither  geometrical  nor 
precise  in  her  delineations.  She  betrays  a  design 
in  all  her  works,  but  never  casts  two  objects  in  the 
same  mold.  She  does  not  paint  by  formulas, 
nor  build  by  square  and  compass,  nor  plant  by  a 


i86  ARBOR  DAY 

line  and  dibble ;  she  takes  no  note  of  formal  arrange- 
ments, or  of  the  "line  of  beauty/^  or  of  direct  adap- 
tation of  means  to  ends.  She  shakes  all  things 
together,  as  in  a  dice-box,  and  as  they  fall  out  there 
they  remain,  growing  crooked  or  straight,  mean 
or  magnificent,  beautiful  or  ugly,  but  adapted  by 
the  infinite  variety  of  their  forms  and  dispositions 
to  the  wants  and  habits  of  all  creatures. 

The  beauty  of  trees  is  something  that  exists  chiefly 
in  our  imagination.  We  admire  them  for  their 
evident  adaptation  to  purposes  of  shade  and  shelter. 
Some  of  them  we  regard  as  symbols  or  images  of 
a  fine  poetic  sentiment.  Such  are  the  slender  wil- 
lows and  poplars,  that  remind  us  of  grace  and  refine- 
ment, becoming  the  emblems  of  some  agreeable 
moral  affection,  or  the  embodiment  of  some  strik- 
ing metaphor.  Thus  Coleridge  personifies  the 
white  birch  as  the  "Lady  of  the  Woods,"  and  the 
oak  by  other  poets  is  called  the  monarch,  and  the 
ash  the  Venus  of  the  forest.  The  weeping  willow, 
beautiful  on  account  of  its  graceful  spray,  becomes 
still  more  so  when  regarded  as  the  emblem  of  sorrow. 
The  oak,  in  like  manner,  is  interesting  as  the  symbol 
of  strength  and  fortitude.  A  young  fir-tree  always 
reminds  us  of  primness;  hence  the  name  spruce, 
which  is  applied  to  many  of  the  species,  is  a  word 
used  to  express  formality.  The  cedar  of  Lebanon 
would  be  viewed  by  all  with  a  certain  romantic 
interest,  on  account  of  the  frequent  mention  of  it  in 


TREE  FORMS  AND  EXPRESSIONS    187 

Holy  Writ,  as  well  as  for  its  nobleness  of  dimen- 
sions and  stature. 

It  is  with  certain  interesting  scenes  in  the  romance 
of  travel  that  we  associate  the  palms  of  the  tropics. 
They  have  acquired  singular  attractions  by  appear- 
ing frequently  in  scenes  that  represent  the  life  and 
manners  of  the  simple  inhabitants  of  the  equatorial 
regions.  We  see  them  in  pictures  bending  their 
fan-like  heads  majestically  over  the  humble  hut  of 
the  Indian,  supplying  him  at  once  with  milk,  bread, 
and  fruit,  and  affording  him  the  luxury  of  their 
shade.  They  emblemize  the  beneficence  of  nature, 
which,  by  means  of  their  products,  supplies  the 
wants  of  man  before  he  has  learned  the  arts  of  civi- 
lized life. 

Writers  in  general  apply  the  term  "picturesque" 
to  trees  which  are  devoid  of  symmetry  and  very 
irregular  in  their  outlines,  either  crooked  from  age 
or  from  some  natural  eccentricity  of  growth.  Thus 
the  tupelo  is  so  called,  to  distinguish  it  from  round- 
headed  and  symmetrical  or  beautiful  trees.  This 
distinction  is  not  very  precise;  but  it  is  sanctioned 
by  general  use,  and  answers  very  well  for  common 
purposes  of  vague  description.  I  shall  use  the 
words  in  a  similar  manner,  not  adhering  to  the  dis- 
tinction as  philosophical.  Indeed,  it  is  impossible 
to  find  words  that  will  clearly  express  a  complex 
idea.  Words  are  very  much  like  tunes  played  on 
a  jew's-harp;  the  notes  intended  to  be  given  by  the 


i88  ARBOR  DAY 

performer  are  accompanied  by  the  louder  ring  of  the 
keynote  of  the  instrument,  making  it  difficult 
to  detect  the  notes  of  the  tune,  except  in  the  hands 
of  an  extraordinary  performer. 

Nature  has  provided  against  the  disagreeable 
effects  that  would  result  from  the  dismemberment 
of  trees,  by  giving  to  those  which  are  the  most  com- 
mon a  great  irregularity  of  outline,  admitting  of 
disproportion  without  deformity.  Symmetry  in  the 
forms  of  natural  objects  becomes  wearisome  by 
making  too  great  a  demand  upon  the  attention 
required  for  observing  the  order  and  relations  of 
the  different  parts.  But  if  the  objects  in  the  land- 
scape be  irregular,  both  in  their  forms  and  their 
distribution,  we  make  no  effort  to  attend  to  the 
relations  of  parts  to  the  whole,  because  no  such 
harmony  is  indicated.  Such  a  scene  has  the  beauty 
of  repose.  The  opposite  effect  is  observed  in  works 
of  architecture,  in  which  irregularity  puzzles  the 
mind  to  discover  the  mutual  relations  of  parts,  and 
becomes  disagreeable  by  disturbing  our  calculation 
and  disappointing  our  curiosity.  The  charm  of 
art  is  variety  combined  with  uniformity;  the  charm 
of  nature  is  variety  without  uniformity.  Nature 
speaks  to  us  in  prose,  art  in  verse. 

Though  we  always  admire  a  perfectly  symmetrical 
oak  or  elm,  because  such  perfection  is  rare,  it  will 
be  admitted  that  the  irregular  forms  of  trees  are 
more  productive  of  agreeable  impressions  on  the 


SONG  189 

mind.  The  oak,  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  all 
trees,  is,  in  an  important  sense,  absolutely  ugly, 
especially  when  old  age  has  increased  its  picturesque 
attractions.  Indeed,  if  we  could  always  reason 
correctly  on  the  subjects  of  our  consciousness,  we 
should  find  that  a  very  small  part  of  that  complex 
quality  which  we  call  beauty  yields  any  organic 
pleasure  to  the  sight.  The  charm  of  most  of  the 
objects  in  this  category  exists  only  in  our  imagina- 
tions. In  trees  and  the  general  objects  of  the  land- 
scape we  look  neither  for  symmetry  nor  proportion ; 
the  absence  of  these  qualities  is,  therefore,  never 
disagreeable.  It  is  the  nonfulfilment  of  some 
expectation,  or  the  apparently  imperfect  supply 
of  some  important  want,  that  offends  the  sight, 
as  when  a  conspicuous  gap  occurs  in  some  finely 
proportioned  work  of  art. 


SONG 


BY  THOMAS  LOVE  PEACOCK 

For  the  tender  beech  and  the  sapling  oak, 

That  grow  by  the  shadowy  rill. 
You  may  cut  down  both  at  a  single  stroke. 

You  may  cut  down  which  you  will. 

But  this  you  must  know,  that  as  long  as  they  grow, 

Whatever  change  may  be. 
You  can  never  teach  either  oak  or  beech 

To  be  aught  but  a  greenwood  tree.  -   ' ' 


I90  ARBOR  DAY 

A  FRANK  AVOWAL 

BY  N.  P.  WILLIS 

From  Outdoors  at  Idlewild 
I  SAID,  just  now,  that  I  had  not  yet  planted  a  single 
tree  at  Idlewild.  This  is  half  a  betrayal  of  a  weak- 
ness that  I  feel  growing  upon  me;  and,  having  been 
reminded  to-day  of  what  I  have  once  put  in  print 
from  quite  an  opposite  feeling,  I  may  as  well  make 
a  clean  breast,  and  so,  perhaps,  get  the  better  of  it. 
In  our  current  of  life  we  have  eddies  of  these  quiet 
side- weaknesses  —  a  string  of  them.  At  fourteen 
we  begin  to  be  secretly  nervous  lest  our  beard  should 
be  belated.  Whiskers  pretty  well  outlined,  there 
awakens  an  unconfessed  wonder  and  indignation 
that  the  world  does  not  seem  ready  for  our  particular 
genius.  Soon  after,  we  are  mortified  that  even  our 
guardian  angel,  reading  our  hearts,  should  know 
how  hard  it  is  to  smile  with  contempt  because  papas 
do  not  think  us  "a  good  match."  The  struggle  of 
life  comes;  and,  with  the  current  swifter  and  deeper, 
there  is  an  interval,  perhaps,  when  the  eddies  of 
secret  weakness  find  no  slack- water  for  play.  But, 
that  past,  we  begin  to  be  sensitive  about  our  age 
and  our  first  gray  hairs;  and  when  that  is  scarce 
over,  there  comes  another  feeling  —  the  weakness 
that  I  speak  of  —  the  secret  reason  (though  scarce 
before  recognized  and  brought  fairly  to  the  light) 


1  SAW  A  LIVE-OAK   GROWING      191 

why  I  have  been  two  years  molding  Idlewild  into 
a  home,  and  have  not  yet  set  out  a  tree. 


I    SAW   IN    LOUISIANA    A   LIVE-OAK 
GROWING* 

BY  WALT  WHITMAN 

I  SAW  in  Louisiana  a  live-oak  growing, 

All  alone  stood  it  and  the  moss  hung  down  from  the 

branches, 
Without   any   companion   it   grew   there   uttering 

joyous  leaves  of  dark  green, 
And  its  look,  rude,  unbending,  lusty,  made  me  think 

of  myself. 
But  I  wonder'd  how  it  could  utter  joyous  leaves 

standing  alone  there  without  its  friend  near, 

for  I  knew  I  could  not. 
And  I  broke  off  a  twig  with  a  certain  number  of 

leaves  upon  it,  and  twined  around  it  a  little 

moss, 
And  brought  it  away,  and  I  have  placed  it  in  sight 

in  my  room. 
It  is  not  needed  to  remind  me  of  my  own  dear 

friends 
(For  I  believe  lately  I  think  of  little  else  than  of 

them), 

*  From  "Poetical  Works,"  published  by  David  McKay,  Phila- 
delphia, Pa. 


19^  ARBOR  DAV 

Yet  it  remains  to  me  a  curious  token,  it  makes  me 

think  of  manly  love; 
For  all  that,  and  though  the  live-oak  glistens  there 

in  Louisiana,  solitary  in  a  wide,  flat  space, 
Uttering  joyous  leaves  all  its  life  without  a  friend, 

a  lover  near, 
I  know  very  well  I  could  not. 


THE  MAPLE* 

BY  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL 

The  Maple  puts  her  corals  on  in  May, 
While  loitering  frosts  about  the  lowlands  cling, 
To  be  in  tune  with  what  the  robins  sing, 
Plastering  new  log- huts  'mid  her  branches  gray; 
But  when  the  Autumn  southward  turns  away, 
Then    in    her   veins    bums    most    the    blood    of 

Spring, 
And  every  leaf,  intensely  blossoming, 
Makes  the  year's  sunset  pale  the  set  of  day. 
O  Youth  unprescient,  were  it  only  so 
With  trees  you  plant,  and  in  whose  shade  reclined, 
Thinking    their    drifting    blooms    Fate's     coldest 

snow. 
You  carve  dear  names  upon  the  faithful  rind, 
Nor  in  that  vernal  stem  the  cross  foreknow 
That  Age  shall  bear,  silent,  yet  unresigned! 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miffin  &  Co. 


THE  LESSON  OF  A  TREE  193 


UNDER  THE  GREENWOOD  TREE 

BY  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

Under  the  greenwood  tree 
Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  tune  his  merry  note 
Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat  — 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither! 
Here  shall  we  see 
No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Who  doth  ambition  shun, 
And  loves  to  live  i'  the  sun, 
Seeking  the  food  he  eats, 
And  pleased  with  what  he  gets  — 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither! 
Here  shall  he  see 
No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 


THE  LESSON  OF  A  TREE* 

BY  WALT  WHITMAN 

I  SHOULD  not  take  either  the  biggest  or  the  most 
picturesque  tree  to  illustrate  it.  Here  is  one  of  my 
favorites  now  before  me,  a  fine  yellow  poplar,  quite 

♦From  "Prose  Works,"  published  by  David  McKay,  Phila- 
delphia, Pa. 


194  ARBOR  DAY 

straight,  perhaps  ninety  feet  high,  and  four  thick 
at  the  butt.  How  strong,  vital,  enduring!  How 
dumbly  eloquent!  What  suggestions  of  imper- 
turbability and  beingj  as  against  the  human  trait  of 
mere  seeming.  Then  the  qualities,  almost  emo- 
tional, palpably  artistic,  heroic,  of  a  tree;  so  inno- 
cent and  harmless,  yet  so  savage.  It  w,  yet  says 
nothing.  How  it  rebukes,  by  its  tough  and  equable 
serenity,  all  weathers,  this  gusty-tempered  little 
whiffet,  man,  that  runs  indoors  at  a  mite  of  rain 
or  snow.  Science  (or  rather  half-way  science) 
scofiFs  at  reminiscence  of  dryad  and  hamadryad,  and 
of  trees  speaking.  But,  if  they  don't,  they  do  as 
well  as  most  speaking,  writing,  poetry,  sermons  — 
or  rather  they  do  a  great  deal  better.  I  should  say 
indeed  that  those  old  dryad  reminiscences  are  quite 
as  true  as  any,  and  profounder  than  most  remin- 
iscences we  get.  ("Cut  this  out,"  as  the  quack 
mediciners  say,  and  keep  by  you.)  Go  and  sit  in 
a  grove  or  woods,  with  one  or  more  of  those  voice- 
less companions,  and  read  the  foregoing  and  think. 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  TREES 

BY  WILSON  FLAGG 

It  is  difficult  to  realize  how  great  a  part  of  all 
that  is  cheerful  and  delightful  in  the  recollections 
of  our  own  life  is  associated  with  trees.    They  are 


THE    SNOWING    OF    THE    PINES  195 

allied  with  the  songs  of  morn,  with  the  quiet  of 
noonday,  with  social  gatherings  under  the  evening 
sky,  and  with  all  the  beauty  and  attractiveness  of 
every  season.  Nowhere  does  nature  look  more 
lovely,  or  the  sounds  from  birds  and  insects,  and 
from  inanimate  things,  affect  us  more  deeply,  than 
in  their  benevolent  shade.  Never  does  the  blue 
sky  appear  more  serene  than  when  its  dappled  azure 
glimmers  through  their  green  trembling  leaves. 
Their  shades,  which,  in  the  early  ages,  were  the 
temples  of  religion  and  philosophy,  are  still  the 
favorite  resort  of  the  studious,  the  scene  of  health- 
ful sport  for  the  active  and  adventurous,  and  the 
very  sanctuary  of  peaceful  seclusion  for  the  contem- 
plative and  sorrowful. 


THE  SNOWING  OF  THE  PINES* 

BY  THOMAS  WENTWORTH  HIGGINSON 

Softer  than  silence,  stiller  than  still  air, 

Float  down  from  high  pine-boughs  the  slender  leaves. 

The  forest  floor  its  annual  boon  receives 

That  comes  like  snowfall,  tireless,  tranquil,  fair. 

Gently  they  glide,  gently  they  clothe  the  bare 

Old  rocks  with  grace.     Their  fall  a  mantle  weaves 

Of  paler  yellow  than  autumnal  sheaves 

Or  those  strange  blossoms  the  witch-hazels  wear. 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


196  ARBOR  DAY 

Athwart  long  aisles  the  sunbeams  pierce  their  way; 

High  up,  the  crows  are  gathering  for  the  night; 

The  delicate  needles  fill  the  air;  the  jay 

Takes  through  their  golden  mist  his  radiant  flight; 

They  fall  and  fall,  till  at  November's  close 

The  snowflakes  drop  as  lightly  —  snows  on  snows. 


MEN  AND  TREES* 

BY  EDITH  M.   THOMAS 

Some  time  since,  on  an  enchanted  summer  after- 
noon, I  heard  the  woods  utter  the  following  com- 
plaint, in  tones  half  whisper,  half  musical  recitative 
(I  do  not  think  I  could  have  been  asleep) : 

We  that  sway  the  forest  realm, 

Oak  and  chestnut,  beech  and  elm, 

Do  grow  weary  standing  here 

Year  by  year  —  long  year  by  year! 

Will  it  never  more  befall  us 

We  shall  hear  a  master  call  us, 

When  our  troops  shall  break  their  trance 

And  be  joined  in  nimble  dance? 

He  should  lead  us  up  and  down. 

Drunk  with  joy  from  root  to  crown, 

Through  the  valley,  over  hill, 

Servants  unto  music's  will; 

Leaf  and  nut  the  earth  bestrewing, 

Birds  their  truant  nests  pursuing  — 

Merry  madness  all  around 

In  the  trembling  air  and  ground! 


*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


MEN  AND  TREES  197 

So  it  chanced  (our  sages  say) 

In  the  bard  Amphion's  day; 

But  since  he  was  lost  to  earth, 

None  could  wake  our  souls  to  mirth. 

Music,  music,  music  bring, 

Blow  on  flute,  and  smite  the  string! 

We  for  revel  fare  are  ripe  — 

We  would  dance,  but  who  will  pipe?- 

Now  the  best  of  bards  alive 

In  his  art  so  ill  doth  thrive. 

He  might  try  for  days  together, 

And  not  start  one  plume  of  heather. 

Truth  to  say,  the  only  Amphionic  music  the  trees 
hear  nowadays  is  the  ring  of  the  woodman's  axe, 
their  only  dance  a  short,  giddy  reel. 

There  are  spirits  of  the  sylvan  and  spirits  of  the 
open,  natural  interpreters  of  the  woods  and  inter- 
preters of  the  fields.  The  true  spiritual  descen- 
dants of  the  Druids  are  a  small  minority.  How 
many  of  us,  while  loving  trees,  are  also  lovers  of  the 
mid-forest  and  deep  shade?  If  not  lost  in  the 
woods,  we  are  much  at  a  loss  there.  The  surround- 
ing is  alien.  A  latent  timorousness  akin  to  super- 
stition starts  up  and  walks  with  us,  advising: 

Of  forests  and  enchantments  drear, 
Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear. 

This  under-meaning  or  over-meaning  of  the  woods 
still  baffles.  Their  most  gracious  invitation  and 
salutation  at  a  little  distance  are  never  quite  made 
good  when  I  have  stepped  across  their  precincts. 
Foretaste  of  their  indifference  has  often  kept  me 
a  traveler  *'all  around  Robin  Hood's  barn,"  rather 


ipS  ARBOR  DAY 

than  through  it.  Or  is  it  that,  not  greatly  fond  of 
interiors  (of  woodland  interiors,  even),  I  prefer 
to  stand  or  sit  in  the  strong-pillared  portico,  and 
gaze  thence  far  into  the  mysterious  presence-filled 
sanctuary?  Were  I  within,  the  preached  word 
would  but  puzzle  my  child-like  capacity.  Such 
impression  I  have  of  the  woods  in  full  leaf,  roofed 
over  and  curtained  round.  In  winter,  in  early 
spring,  or  in  late  autumn,  when  the  sky's  good  light 
keeps  me  in  countenance,  my  wood-wit  is  less  dull. 
Looking  sunward  through  these  long  aisles,  I  see 
the  dead  leaves  repeatedly  lifted  on  the  awakening 
wind.  The  ground  itself  seems  to  acquire  motion 
from  their  fluctuations,  and  appears  now  rising,  now 
subsiding,  as  the  wind  comes  or  goes.  Are  the  leaves 
surely  dead  ?  Near  by  they  have  a  cautionary  speech 
all  their  own,  a  continuous  **hist''  and  "'sh"  — 
sounds  distinct  from  the  sonorous  wind-march 
through  the  tree-tops.  Soul  of  the  forest  and  of  all 
sylvan  summers  gone,  set  free  by  the  blown  ripe  leaves 
—  I  flush  it,  and  follow  it  through  the  shrill  woods! 


THE    WAYSIDE    INN  — AN    APPLE    TREE 

FROM  THE  GERMAN 

I  HALTED  at  a  pleasant  inn, 

As  I  my  way  was  wending  — 
A  golden  apple  was  the  sign, 

From  knotty  bough  depending. 


FOREST  HYMN  199 

Mine  host  —  it  was  an  apple  tree  — 

He  smilingly  received  me, 
And  spread  his  sweetest,  choicest  fruit 

To  strengthen  and  relieve  me. 

Full  many  a  little  feathered  guest 
Came  through  his  branches  springing; 

They  hopped  and  flew  from  spray  to  spray, 
Their  notes  of  gladness  singing. 

Beneath  his  shade  I  laid  me  down, 
And  slumber  sweet  possessed  me; 

The  soft  wind  blowing  through  the  leaves 
With  whispers  low  caressed  me. 

And  when  I  rose  and  would  have  paid 

My  host,  so  open-hearted, 
He  only  shook  his  lofty  head  — 

I  blessed  him  and  departed. 


FOREST  HYMN 

BY  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

The  groves  were  God's  first  temples.    Ere  man 

learned 
To  hew  the  shaft,  and  lay  the  architrave, 
And  spread  the  roof  above  them  —  ere  he  framed 
The  lofty  vault  to  gather  and  roll  back 
The  sound  of  anthems  —  in  the  darkling  wood, 


200  ARBOR  DAY 

Amidst  the  cool  and  silence,  he  knelt  down 
And  offered  to  the  Mightiest  solemn  thanks 
And  supplications. 

For  his  simple  heart 
Might  not  resist  the  sacred  influences 
That,  from  the  stilly  twilight  of  the  place, 
And  from  the  gray  old  trunks  that  high  in  heaven 
Mingled  their  mossy  boughs,  and  from  the  sound 
Of  the  invisible  breath  that  swayed  at  once 
All  their  green  tops,  stole  over  him,  and  bowed 
His  spirit  with  the  thought  of  boundless  Power 
And  inaccessible  Majesty. 

Ah!  why 
Should  we,  in  the  world's  riper  years,  neglect 
God's  ancient  sanctuaries,  and  adore 
Only  among  the  crowd,  and  under  roofs 
That  our  frail  hands  have  raised  ?    Let  me,  at  least, 
Here,  in  the  shadow  of  this  aged  wood. 
Offer  one  hymn,  thrice  happy  if  it  find 
Acceptance  in  his  ear. 

Father,  Thy  hand 
Hath  reared  these  venerable  columns:  Thou 
Didst  weave  this  verdant  roof.  Thou  didst  look  down 
Upon  the  naked  earth,  and  forthwith  rose 
All  these  fair  ranks  of  trees.     They  in  Thy  sun 
Budded,  and  shook  their  green  leaves  in  Thy  breeze, 
And  shot  toward  heaven.     The  century-living  crow, 


FOREST  HYMN  201 

Whose  birth  was  in  their  tops,  grew  old  and  died 
Among  their  branches;  till  at  last  they  stood, 
As  now  they  stand,  massy,  and  tall,  and  dark  — 
Fit  shrine  for  humble  worshiper  to  hold 
Communion  with  his  Maker. 

Here  are  seen 
No  traces  of  man's  pomp  or  pride;  no  silks 
Rustle,  no  jewels  shine,  nor  envious  eyes 
Encounter;  no  fantastic  carvings  show 
The  boast  of  our  vain  race  to  change  the  form 
Of  thy  fair  works.     But  Thou  art  here;  Thou  fili'st 
The  solitude.     Thou  art  in  the  soft  winds 
That  run  along  the  summits  of  these  trees 
In  music;  Thou  art  in  the  cooler  breath 
That  from  the  inmost  darkness  of  the  place 
Comes  scarcely  felt;  the  barky  trunks,  the  grouna, 
The  fresh,  moist  ground,  are  all  instinct  with  Thee. 

Here  is  continual  worship;  nature,  here, 
In  the  tranquillity  that  Thou  dost  love, 
Enjoys  thy  presence.    Noiselessly  around 
From  perch  to  perch,  the  solitary  bird 
Passes;  and  yon  clear  spring,  that  midst  its  herbs 
Wells  softly  forth,  and  visits  the  strong  roots 
Of  half  the  mighty  forest,  tells  no  tale 
Of  all  the  good  it  does. 

Thou  hast  not  left 
Thyself  without  a  witness,  in  these  shades, 


202  ARBOR  DAY 

Of  Thy  perfections.    Grandeur,  strength,  and  grace 

Are  here  to  speak  of  Thee.     This  mighty  oak  — 

By  whose  immovable  stem  I  stand,  and  seem 

Almost  annihilated  —  not  a  prince 

In  all  the  proud  Old  World  beyond  the  deep 

E'er  wore  his  crown  as  loftily  as  he 

Wears  the  green  coronal  of  leaves  with  which 

Thy  hand  has  graced  him. 

Nestled  at  his  root 
Is  beauty  such  as  blooms  not  in  the  glare 
Of  the  broad  sun.     That  delicate  forest-flower, 
With  scented  breath  and  look  so  like  a  smile, 
Seems,  as  it  issues  from  the  shapeless  mold, 
An  emanation  of  the  indwelling  Life, 
A  visible  token  of  the  upholding  Love, 
That  are  the  soul  of  this  wide  imiverse, 

My  heart  is  awed  within  me  when  I  think 

Of  the  great  miracle  that  still  goes  on 

In  silence  round  me  —  the  perpetual  work 

Of  Thy  creation,  finished,  yet  renewed 

Forever.    Written  on  Thy  works  I  read 

The  lesson  of  Thy  own  eternity. 

Lo!  all  grow  old  and  die;  but  see  again 

How,  on  the  faltering  footsteps  of  decay, 

Youth  presses  —  ever  gay  and  beautiful  youth  — 

In  all  its  beautiful  forms.     These  lofty  trees 

Wave  not  less  proudly  than  their  ancestors 

Holder  beneath  them. 


FOREST  HYMN  203 

Oh,  there  is  not  lost 
One  of  earth's  charms:  upon  her  bosom  yet, 
After  the  flight  of  untold  centuries, 
The  freshness  of  her  fair  beginning  lies, 
And  yet  shall  lie.    Life  mocks  the  idle  hate 
Of  his  arch-enemy  Death;  yea,  seats  himself 
Upon  the  sepulchre,  and  blooms  and  smiles, 
And  of  the  triumphs  of  his  ghastly  foe 
Makes  his  own  nourishment.     For  he  came  forth 
From  Thine  own  bosom,  and  shall  have  no  end. 

There  have  been  holy  men  who  hid  themselves 

Deep  in  the  woody  wilderness,  and  gave 

Their  lives  to  thought  and  prayer,  till  they  outlived 

The  generation  born  with  them,  nor  seemed 

Less  aged  than  the  hoary  trees  and  rocks 

Around  them;  and  there  have  been  holy  men 

Who  deemed  it  were  not  well  to  pass  life  thus. 

But  let  me  often  to  these  solitudes 

Retire,  and  in  Thy  presence  reassure 

My  feeble  virtue.    Here  its  enemies. 

The  passions,  at  Thy  plainer  footsteps  shrink 

And  tremble,  and  are  still. 

O  God!  when  Thou 
Dost  scare  the  world  with  tempests,  set  on  fire 
The  heavens  with  falling  thunder-bolts,  or  fill, 
With  all  the  waters  of  the  firmament. 
The  swift,  dark  whirlwind  that  uproots  the  woods 


204  ARBOR  DAY 

And  drowns  the  villages;  when,  at  Thy  call, 
Uprises  the  great  deep  and  throws  himself 
Upon  the  continent,  and  overwhelms 
Its  cities;  who  forgets  not,  at  the  sight 
Of  these  tremendous  tokens  of  Thy  power, 
His  pride,  and  lays  his  strifes  and  follies  by? 

Oh,  from  these  sterner  aspects  of  Thy  face 
Spare  me  and  mine;  nor  let  us  need  the  wrath 
Of  the  mad,  unchained  elements  to  teach 
Who  rules  them.    Be  it  ours  to  mediate, 
In  these  calm  shades,  Thy  milder  majesty. 
And  to  the  beautiful  order  of  Thy  works 
Learn  to  conform  the  order  of  our  lives. 


FROM 

HAROLD  THE  DAUNTLESS 

BY  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT 

'Tis  merry  in  greenwood,  thus  runs  the  old  lay, 
In  the  gladsome  month  of  lively  May, 
When  the  wild  bird's  song  on  stem  and  spray 

Invites  to  forest  bower; 
Then  rears  the  ash  his  airy  crest 
Then  shines  the  birch  in  silver  vest, 
And  the  beech  in  glistening  leaves  is  drest, 
And  dark  between  shows  the  oak's  proud  breast. 

Like  a  chieftain's  frowning  tower. 


A  FAMOUS  COUPLET  205 

THE  MAJESTY  OF  TREES 

BY  WASHINGTON  IRVING 

There  is  a  serene  and  settled  majesty  in  wood- 
land scenery  that  enters  into  the  soul,  and  delights 
and  elevates  it,  and  fills  it  with  noble  inclinations. 
As  the  leaves  of  trees  are  said  to  absorb  all  noxious 
qualities  of  the  air  and  to  breathe  forth  a  purer 
atmosphere,  so  it  seems  to  me  as  if  they  drew  from 
us  all  sordid  and  angry  passions,  and  breathed  forth 
peace  and  philanthropy. 

There  is  something  nobly  simple  and  pure  in  a 
taste  for  the  cultivation  of  forest  trees.  It  argues 
I  think,  a  sweet  and  generous  nature  to  have  this 
strong  relish  for  the  beauties  of  vegetation,  and 
this  friendship  for  the  hardy  and  glorious  sons  of  the 
forest.  There  is  a  grandeur  of  thought  connected 
with  this  part  of  rural  economy.  It  is,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  the  figure,  the  heroic  line  of  husbandry.  It 
is  worthy  of  liberal,  and  free-born,  and  aspiring  men. 
He  who  plants  an  oak,  looks  forward  to  future  ages, 
and  plants  for  posterity.  Nothing  can  be  less  selfish 
than  this. 


A  FAMOUS  COUPLET 

BY  ALEXANDER  POPE 

'Tis  education  forms  the  common  mind; 
Just  as  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree's  inclined. 


2o6         ARBOR  DAY 

A  FEW  OLD  PROVERBS 

ANONYMOUS 

"If  the  Oak  is  out  before  the  Ash, 
'Twill  be  a  summer  of  wet  and  splash; 
If  the  Ash  is  out  before  the  Oak, 
'Twill  be  a  summer  of  fire  and  smoke." 

"When  the  Hawthorn  bloom  too  early  shows, 
We  shall  have  still  many  snows." 

"When  the  Oak  puts  on  his  goslings  gray 
'Tis  time  to  sow  barley  night  or  day." 

"When  Elm  leaves  are  big  as  a  shilling, 
Plant  kidney  beans  if  you  are  willing; 
When  Elm  leaves  are  as  big  as  a  penny. 
You  must  plant  beans  if  you  wish  to  have  any." 


HISTORIC  TREES 

BY  ALEXANDER  SMITH 

I  DO  not  wonder  that  great  earls  value  their  trees 
and  never,  save  in  the  direst  extremity,  lift  upon  them 
the  axe.  Ancient  descent  and  glory  are  made 
audible  in  the  proud  murmur  of  immemorial  woods. 
There  are  forests  in  England  whose  leafy  noises 


HISTORIC   TREES  207 

may  be  shaped  into  Agincourt,  and  the  names  of 
the  battlefields  of  the  Roses;  oaks  that  dropped 
their  acorns  in  the  year  that  Henry  VIII.  held  his 
field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,  and  beeches  that  gave 
shelter  to  the  deer  when  Shakespeare  was  a  boy. 
There  they  stand,  in  sun  and  shower,  the  broad- 
armed  witnesses  of  perished  centuries;  and  sore  must 
his  need  be  who  commands  a  woodland  massacre. 
A  great  tree,  the  rings  of  a  century  in  its  boll,  is  one 
of  the  noblest  of  natural  objects;  and  it  touches  the 
imagination  no  less  than  the  eye,  for  it  grows  out  of 
tradition  and  a  past  order  of  things,  and  is  pathetic 
with  the  suggestions  of  dead  generations.  Trees 
waving  a  colony  of  rooks  in  the  wind  to-day  are 
older  than  historic  lines.  Trees  are  your  best 
antiques.  There  are  cedars  on  Lebanon  which  the 
axes  of  Solomon  spared,  they  say,  when  he  was  busy 
with  his  Temple;  there  are  olives  on  Olivet  that 
might  have  rustled  in  the  ears  of  the  Master  of  the 
Twelve;  there  are  oaks  in  Sherwood  which  have 
tingled  to  the  horn  of  Robin  Hood,  and  have  lis- 
tened to  Maid  Marian's  laugh.  Think  of  an  exist- 
ing Syrian  cedar  which  is  nearly  as  old  as  history, 
which  was  middle-aged  before  the  wolf  suckled 
Romulus;  think  of  an  existing  English  elm  in  whose 
branches  the  heron  was  reared  which  the  hawks 
of  Saxon  Harold  killed!  If  you  are  a  notable,  and 
wish  to  be  remembered,  better  plant  a  tree  than 
build  a  city  or  strike  a  medal  —  it  will  outlast  both. 


2o8  ARBOR   DAY 


THE  OAK* 

BY  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL 

What  gnarled  stretch,  what  depth  of  shade,  is  his! 

There    needs    no   crown  to   mark   the    foresf s 
king; 
How  in  his  leaves  outshines  full  summer's  bliss 

Sun,  storm,  rain,  dew,  to  him  their  tribute  bring. 
How  doth   his  patient  strength   the  rude  March 
wind 

Persuade  to  seem  glad  breaths  of  summer  breeze, 
And  win  the  soil  that  fain  would  be  unkind. 

To  swell  his  revenues  with  proud  increase! 
So,  from  oft  converse  with  life's  wintry  gales, 

Should  man  learn  how  to  clasp  with  tougher 
roots 
The  inspiring  earth;  how  otherwise  avails 

The  leaf-creating  sap  that  upward  shoots? 

Lord!  all  thy  works  are  lessons;  each  contains 

Some  emblem  of  man's  all-containing  soul; 
Shall  he  make  fruitless  all  thy  glorious  pains, 

Delving  within  thy  grace,  an  eyeless  mole? 
Make  me  the  least  of  thy  Dodona  grove, 

Cause  me  some  message  of  thy  truth  to  bring, 
Speak  but  a  word  through  me,  nor  let  thy  love 

Among  my  boughs  disdain  to  perch  and  sing. 

*By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


A  TRUE  NOBLEMAN      209 


A  TRUE  NOBLEMAN 

BY  WASHINGTON  IRVING 

There  is  an  affinity  between  all  natures,  animate 
and  inanimate.  The  oak  in  the  pride  and 
lustihood  of  its  growth,  seems  to  me  to  take  its 
range  with  the  lion  and  the  eagle,  and  to  as- 
similate, in  the  grandeur  of  its  attributes,  to 
heroic  and  intellectual  man.  With  its  lofty 
pillar  rising  straight  and  direct  toward  heaven, 
bearing  up  its  leafy  honors  from  the  impurities 
of  earth,  and  supporting  them  aloft  in  free  air 
and  glorious  sunshine,  it  is  an  emblem  of  what 
a  triie  nobleman  should  be:  a  refuge  for  the 
weak,  a  shelter  for  the  oppressed,  a  defense  for 
the  defenseless;  warding  off  from  the  peltings 
of  the  storm,  or  the  scorching  rays  of  arbitrary 
power.  He  who  is  this  is  an  ornament  and  a 
blessing  to  his  native  land.  He  who  is  other- 
wise abuses  his  eminent  advantages  —  abuses  the 
grandeur  and  prosperity  which  he  has  drawn 
from  the  bosom  of  his  country.  Should  tempests 
arise,  and  he  be  laid  prostrate  by  the  storm, 
who  would  mourn  over  his  fall?  Should  he  be 
borne  down  by  the  oppressive  hand  of  power, 
who  would    murmur   at  his  fate?     "Why  cum- 

BERETH  HE   THE   GROUN    ?" 


2IO  ARBOR  DAY 

THE  OAK 

BY  JOHN  DRYDEN 

The  monarch  oak,  the  patriarch  of  the  trees, 
Shoots  slowly  up,  and  spreads  by  slow  degrees; 
Three  centuries  he  grows,  and  three  he  stays 
Supreme  in  state,  and  in  three  more  decays. 


THE  TREE 

BY  BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON 

The    tree's  early    leaf -buds   were   bursting   their 

brown. 
"Shall  I  take  them  away?"  said  the  frost,  sweep- 
ing down. 

"No;  leave  them  alone 
Till  the  blossoms  have  grown,'* 
Prayed  the  tree,  while  he  trembled  from  rootlet  to 
crown. 

The  tree  bore   his  blossoms,   and   all   the   birds 

sung. 
"Shall  I  take  them  away?"  said  the  wind,  as  he 
swung. 

"No  leave  them  alone 
Till  the  berries  have  grown," 
Said  the  tree,  while  his  leaflets  quivering  hung. 


THE  FAUN  211 

The  tree  bore  his  fruit  in  the  midsummer  glow. 
Said  the  child,  "  May  I  gather  thy  berries  now  ?" 

"Yes;  all  thou  canst  see; 

Take  them;  all  are  for  thee," 
Said  the  tree,  while  he  bent  down  his  laden  boughs 
low. 


FROM 

THE  FAUN* 

BY  RICHARD  HOVEY 

Hist!  there's  a  stir  in  the  brush. 
Was  it  a  face  through  the  leaves  ? 
Back  of  the  laurels  a  scurry  and  rush 
Hillward,  then  silence,  except  for  the  thrush 
That  throws  one  song  from  the  dark  of  the  bush 
And  is  gone;  and  I  plunge  in  the  wood,  and  the 

swift  soul  cleaves 
Through  the  swirl  and  the  flow  of  the  leaves, 
As    a    swimmer    stands    with    his    white    limbs 

bare  to  the  sun 
For  the  space  that  a  breath  is  held,  and  drops  in 

the  sea; 
And  the  undulant  woodland  folds  round  me,  intimate 

fluctuant,  free. 
Like  the  clasp  and  the  cling  of  waters,  and  the 

reach  and  the  effort  is  done; 
There  is  only  the  glory  of  living,  exultant  to  be. 

♦Copyright  by  Small,  Maynard  &  Co.     Used  by  permission  of 
the  present  publishers,  Duffield  &  Co. 


212  ARBOR  DAY 

Oh,  goodly  damp  smell  of  the  ground! 
Oh,  rough,  sweet  bark  of  the  trees! 
Oh,  clear,  sharp  cracklings  of  sound! 
Oh,  life  that's  a-thrill  and  a-bound 
With  the  vigor  of  boyhood  and  morning  and  the 
noontide's  rapture  of  ease! 

Was  there  ever  a  weary  heart  in  the  world  ? 

A  lag  in  the  body's  urge,  or  a  flag  of  the  spirit's 

wings  ? 
Did  a  man's  heart  ever  break 
For  a  lost  hope's  sake  ? 
For  here  there  is  lilt  in  the  quiet  and  calm  in  the 

quiver  of  things. 
Ay,  this  old  oak,  gray-grown  and  knurled. 
Solemn  and  sturdy  and  big. 
Is  as  young  of  heart,  as  alert  and  elate  in  his  rest, 
As  the  oriole  there  that  clings  to  the  tip  of  the  twig 
And  scolds  at  the  wind  that  it  buffets  too  rudely 

his  nest. 


IN  THE  HEMLOCKS* 

BY  JOHN  BURROUGHS 

From  Wake-Robin 
The  ancient  hemlocks,  whither  I  propose  to 
take  the  reader,  are  rich    in  many    things   beside 
birds.     Indeed,  their  wealth  in  this  respect  is  owing 

*By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


IN  THE  HEMLOCKS  213 

mainly,  no  doubt,  to  their  rank  vegetable  growths, 
their  fruitful  swamps,  and  their  dark,  sheltered 
retreats. 

Their  history  is  of  an  heroic  cast.  Ravished  and 
torn  by  the  tanner  in  his  thirst  for  bark,  preyed  upon 
by  the  lumberman,  assaulted  and  beaten  back  by 
the  settler,  still  their  spirit  has  never  been  broken, 
their  energies  never  paralyzed.  Not  many  years 
ago  a  public  highway  passed  through  them,  but  it 
was  at  no  time  a  tolerable  road;  trees  fell  across 
it,  mud  and  limbs  choked  it  up,  till  finally  travelers 
took  the  hint  and  went  around;  and  now,  walking 
along  its  deserted  course,  I  see  only  the  footprints 
of  coons,  foxes,  and  squirrels. 

Nature  loves  such  woods,  and  places  her  own 
seal  upon  them.  Here  she  shows  what  can  be  done 
with  ferns  and  mosses  and  lichens.  The  soil  is 
marrowy  and  full  of  innumerable  forests.  Stand- 
ing in  these  fragrant  aisles,  I  feel  the  strength  of  the 
vegetable  kingdom,  and  am  awed  by  the  deep  and 
inscrutable  processes  of  life  going  on  so  silently 
about  me. 

No  hostile  forms  with  axe  or  spud  now  visit  these 
solitudes.  The  cows  have  half-hidden  ways  through 
them,  and  know  where  the  best  browsing  is  to  be 
had.  In  the  spring  the  farmer  repairs  to  their 
bordering  of  maples  to  make  sugar;  in  July  and 
August  women  and  boys  from  all  the  country  about 
penetrate  the  old  Barkpeelings  for  raspberries  and 


214  ARBOR  DAY 

blackberries;  and  I  know  a  youth  who  wonderingly 
follows  their  languid  stream,  casting  for  trout. 


ENGLISH  WOODS  AND  AMERICAN* 

BY  JOHN  BURROUGHS 

From  Fresh  Fields 
The  pastoral  or  field  life  of  nature  in  England  is 
so  rank  and  full,  that  no  woods  or  forests  that  I  was 
able  to  find  could  hold  their  own  against  it  for  a 
moment.  It  flooded  them  like  a  tide.  The  grass 
grows  luxuriantly  in  the  thick  woods,  and  where 
the  grass  fails,  the  coarse  bracken  takes  its  place. 
There  was  no  wood  spirit,  no  wildwood  air.  Our 
forests  shut  their  doors  against  the  fields;  they  shut 
out  the  strong  light  and  the  heat.  Where  the  land 
has  been  long  cleared,  the  woods  put  out  a  screen 
of  low  branches,  or  else  a  brushy  growth  starts  up 
along  their  borders  that  guards  and  protects  their 
privacy.  Lift  or  part  away  these  branches,  and 
step  inside,  and  you  are  in  another  world ;  new  plants, 
new  flowers,  new  birds,  new  animals,  new  insects, 
new  sounds,  new  odors;  in  fact,  an  entirely  different 
atmosphere  and  presence.  Dry  leaves  cover  the 
ground,  delicate  ferns  and  mosses  drape  the  rocks, 
shy,  delicate  flowers  gleam  out  here  and  there,  the 
slender  brown  wood-frog  leaps  nimbly  away  from 

*By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


NATURE  215 

your  feet,  the  little  red  newt  fills  its  infantile  pipe, 
or  hides  under  a  leaf,  the  ruffed  grouse  bursts  up 
before  you,  the  gray  squirrel  leaps  from  tree  to  tree, 
the  wood  pewee  utters  its  plaintive  cry,  the  little 
warblers  lisp  and  dart  amid  the  branches,  and 
sooner  or  later  the  mosquito  demands  his  fee. 
Our  woods  suggest  new  arts,  new  pleasures,  a 
new  mode  of  life.  English  parks  and  groves,  when 
the  sun  shines,  suggest  a  perpetual  picnic,  or 
Maying  party;  but  no  one,  I  imagine,  thinks  of 
camping  out  in  English  woods.  The  constant 
rains,  the  darkened  skies,  the  low  temperature, 
make  the  interior  of  a  forest  as  uninviting  as 
an  underground  passage.  I  wondered  what 
became  of  the  dry  leaves  that  are  such  a  feature 
and  give  out  such  a  pleasing  odor  in  our  woods. 
They  are  probably  raked  up  and  carried  away; 
or,  if  left  upon  the  ground,  are  quickly  resolved 
into  mold  by  the  damp  climate. 


NATURE* 

BY  HENRY  DAVID  THOREAU 

O  Nature  I    I  do  not  aspire 
To  be  the  highest  in  thy  quire  — 
To  be  a  meteor  in  the  sky. 
Or  comet  that  may  range  on  high; 


*By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miffin  &  Co. 


2i6  ARBOR  DAY 

Only  a  zephyr  that  may  blow 
Among  the  reeds  by  the  river  low; 
Give  me  thy  most  privy  place 
Where  to  run  my  airy  race. 

In  some  withdrawn,  unpublic  mead 
Let  me  sigh  upon  a  reed, 
Or  in  the  woods,  with  leafy  din, 
Whisper  the  still  evening  in: 
Some  still  work  give  me  to  do  — 
Only  —  be  it  near  to  you! 

For  I'd  rather  be  thy  child 
And  pupil,  in  the  forest  wild, 
Than  be  the  king  of  men  elsewhere, 
And  most  sovereign  slave  of  care: 
To  have  one  moment  of  thy  dawn. 
Than  share  the  city's  year  forlorn. 


THE  LITTLE  LEAF 

BY  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

Once  on  a  time  a  little  leaf  was  heard  to  sigh  and 
cry,  as  leaves  often  do  when  a  gentle  wind  is  about. 
And  the  twig  said : 

"What  is  the  matter,  little  leaf?" 

"The  wind,"  said  the  leaf,  "just  told  me  that  one 
day  it  would  pull  me  ofiF,  and  throw  me  down  to  the 
ground  to  die!" 


THE  LITTLE  LEAF  217 

The  twig  told  it  to  the  branch  on  which  it  grew, 
and  the  branch  told  it  to  the  tree.  And  when  the 
tree  heard  it,  it  rustled  all  over,  and  sent  word  back 
to  the  leaf. 

*'Do  not  be  afraid,  hold  on  tightly,  and  you  shall 
not  go  till  you  want  to."  And  so  the  leaf  stopped 
sighing  and  went  on  rustling  and  singing.  And 
when  the  bright  days  of  autumn  came,  the  little 
leaf  saw  all  the  leaves  around  becoming  very 
beautiful.  Some  were  yellow  and  some  were 
scarlet,  and  some  were  striped  with  both  colors. 
Then  it  asked  the  tree  what  it  meant.  And  the 
tree  said: 

"All  these  leaves  are  getting  ready  to  fly  away, 
and  they  have  put  on  these  beautiful  colors  because 
of  joy." 

Then  the  little  leaf  began  to  want  to  go,  and  grew 
very  beautiful  in  thinking  of  it,  and  when  it  was 
very  gay  in  colors,  it  saw  that  the  branches  of  the 
tree  had  no  color  in  them,  and  so  the  leaf  said : 

"0  branch,  why  are  you  lead- colored  and  we 
golden?" 

"We  must  keep  on  our  work  clothes,"  said  the 
tree,  "for  our  life  is  not  done  yet,  but  your  clothes 
are  for  a  holiday,  because  your  task  is  over." 

Just  then  a  puff  of  wind  came,  and  the  leaf  let 
go  without  thinking  of  it,  and  the  wind  took  it  up 
and  turned  it  over  and  over,  and  then  whirled  it  like 
a  spark  of  fire  in  the  air,  and  let  it  fall  gently  down 


2i8  ARBOR  DAY 

under  the  edge  of  the  fence  among  hundreds  of 
leaves,  and  it  fell  into  a  dream  and  never  waked  up 
to  tell  what  it  dreamed  about. 

One  impulse  from  a  vernal  wood, 

May  teach  you  more  of  man, 
Of  moral  evil  and  of  good, 


Than  all  the  sages  can. 


Wordsworth. 


THE  TREE  THAT  TRIED  TO  GROW 

BY  FRANCIS  LEE 

One  time  there  was  a  seed  that  wished  to  be  a 
tree.  It  was  fifty  years  ago,  and  more  than  fifty 
—  a  hundred,  perhaps. 

But  first  there  was  a  great  bare  granite  rock  in  the 
midst  of  the  Wendell  woods.  Little  by  little,  dust 
from  a  squirrel's  paw,  as  he  sat  upon  it  eating  a  nut; 
fallen  leaves,  crumbling  and  rotting  —  and  per- 
haps the  decayed  shell  of  the  nut  —  made  earth 
enough  in  the  hollows  of  the  rock  for  some 
mosses  to  grow;  and  for  the  tough  little  saxifrage 
flowers,  which  seem  to  thrive  on  the  poorest 
fare,  and  look  all  the  healthier,  like  very  poor 
children. 

Then,  one  by  one,  the  mosses  and  blossoms 
withered,  and  turned  to  dust;  until,  after  years, 
and  years,  and  years,  there  was  earth  enough  to 


THE  TREE  THAT  TRIED  TO  GROW   219 

make  a  bed  for  a  little  feathery  birch  seed  which 
came  flying  along  one  day. 

The  sun  shone  softly  through  the  forest  trees;  the 
summer  rain  pattered  through  the  leaves  upon  it; 
and  the  seed  felt  wide  awake  and  full  of  life.  So 
it  sent  a  little,  pale-green  stem  up  into  the  air,  and 
a  little  white  root  down  into  the  shallow  bed  of  earth. 
But  you  would  have  been  surprised  to  see  how 
much  the  root  found  to  feed  upon  in  only  a 
handful  of  dirt. 

Yes,  indeed !  And  it  sucked  and  sucked  away  with 
its  little  hungry  mouths,  till  the  pale-green  stem 
became  a  small  brown  tree,  and  the  roots  grew  tough 
and  hard. 

So,  after  a  great  many  years,  there  stood  a  tall 
tree  as  big  around  as  your  body,  growing  right  upon 
a  large  rock,  with  its  big  roots  striking  into  the 
ground  on  all  sides  of  the  rock,  like  a  queer  sort  of 
wooden  cage. 

Now,  I  do  not  believe  there  was  ever  a  boy  in 
this  world  who  tried  as  hard  to  grow  into  a  wise, 
or  a  rich  or  a  good  man,  as  this  birch  seed  did  to 
grow  into  a  tree,  that  did  not  become  what  he 
wished  to  be.  And  I  don't  think  anybody  who 
hears  the  story  of  the  birch  tree,  growing  in 
the  woods  of  Wendell,  need  ever  give  up  to  any 
sort  of  difficulty  in  this  way,  and  say:  "I  can't." 
Only  try  as  hard  as  the  tree  did,  and  you  can 
do  everything. 


220  ARBOR  DAY 

HOW  TO  MAKE  A  WHISTLE 

ANONYMOUS 

First  take  a  willow  bough, 
Smooth,  and  round,  and  dark, 

And  cut  a  little  ring  y 

Just  through  the  outside  bark. 

Then  tap  and  rap  it  gently, 
With  many  a  pat  and  pound, 

To  loosen  up  the  bark. 
So  it  may  turn  around. 

Slip  the  bark  off  carefully. 
So  that  it  will  not  break. 

And  cut  away  the  inside  part, 
And  then  a  mouth-piece  make. 

Now  put  the  bark  all  nicely  back, 
And  in  a  single  minute. 

Just  put  it  to  your  lips 
And  blow  the  whistle  in  it. 


THE  FOREST* 

BY  HENRY    D.   THOREAU 

From  The  Maine  Woods 
Who  shall  describe  the  inexpressible  tenderness 
and  immortal  life  of  the  grim  forest,  where  Nature, 
♦By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miffin  &  Co. 


LIFE'S   FOREST  TREES  221 

though  it  be  mid-winter,  is  ever  in  her  spring,  where 
the  moss-grown  and  decaying  trees  are  not  old,  but 
seem  to  enjoy  a  perpetual  youth;  and  blissful,  inno- 
cent Nature,  like  a  serene  infant,  is  too  happy  to 
make  a  noise,  except  by  a  few  tinkling,  lisping  birds 
and  trickling  rills  ? 


LIFE'S  FOREST  TREES 

BY  ELLA  WHEELER  WILCOX 

The  day  grows  brief;  the  afternoon  is  slanting 
Down  to  the  west;  there  is  no  time  to  waste. 

If  you  have  any  seed  of  good  for  planting, 
You  must,  you  must  make  haste. 

Not  as  of  old  do  you  enjoy  earth's  pleasures 
(The  only  joys  that  last  are  those  we  give). 

Across  the  grave  you  cannot  take  gains,  treasures; 
But  good  and  kind  deeds  live. 

I  would  not  wait  for  any  great  achievement; 

You  may  not  live  to  reach  that  far-ofiF  goal. 
Speak  soothing  words  to  some  heart  in  bereavement — 

Aid  some  up-struggling  soul. 

Teach  some  weak  life  to  strive  for  independence; 

Reach  out  a  hand  to  some  one  in  sore  need. 
Though  it  seem  idle,  yet  in  their  descendants 

May  blossom  this  chance  seed. 


222  ARBOR  DAY 

On  each  life  path,  like  costly  flowers  faded 
And  cast  away,  are  pleasures  that  are  dead; 

Good  deeds,  like  trees,  whereunder,  fed  and  shaded, 
Souls  yet  unborn  may  tread. 


WOOD* 

BY  JULIA  ROGERS 

Trees  grow,  therefore  wood  is  cheaper  than 
metals.  It  is  easily  worked  with  tools  into  desired 
shapes  and  sizes.  It  is  held  securely  by  nails  and 
by  glue.  It  is  practically  permanent  when  protected 
by  paint;  under  water  or  in  the  ground  it  outlasts 
metal.  Its  strength  and  lightness  adapt  it  to  various 
uses.  Its  lightness  makes  it  easy  to  handle.  It  pre- 
serves the  flavor  of  wines  as  no  other  material  can 
do.  It  is  a  non-conductor  of  heat  and  electricity. 
Many  woods  are  marked  by  patterns  of  infinite 
variety  and  beauty,  whose  very  irregularities  consti- 
tute an  abiding  charm.  To  this  is  added  a  fine 
blending  of  colors  and  a  lustre  when  polished  that 
give  woods  a  place  in  the  decorative  arts  that  can 
be  taken  by  no  other  substance. 


THE  HOLLY-TREE 

BY  ROBERT  SOUTHEY 

O  reader!  hast  thou  ever  stood  to  see 
The  Holly-tree? 

*  From  "  The  Tree  Book,"  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 


THE  HOLLY-TREE  223 

The  eye  that  contemplates  it  will  perceive 

Its  glossy  leaves, 
Ordered  by  an  intelligence  so  wise 
As  might  confound  the  Atheist's  sophistries. 

Below,  a  circling  fence,  its  leaves  are  seen, 

Wrinkled  and  keen; 
No  grazing  cattle  through  their  prickly  round 

Can  reach  to  wound; 
But,  as  they  grow  where  nothing  is  to  fear, 
Smooth  and  unarmed  the  pointless  leaves  appear. 

I  love  to  view  these  things  with  curious  eyes, 

And  moralize; 
And  in  this  wisdom  of  the  Holly-tree 

Can  emblem  see 
Wherewith,  perchance,  to  make  a  pleasant  rhyme, 
One  which  may  profit  in  the  after-time. 

Thus,  though  abroad  perchance  I  might  appear 

Harsh  and  austere. 
To  those  who  on  my  leisure  would  intrude 

Reserved  and  rude, 
Gentle  at  home  amid  my  friends  I'd  be. 
Like  the  high  leaves  upon  the  Holly-tree. 

And  should  my  youth,  as  youth  is  apt  I  know, 

Somehow  a  harshness  show, 
All  vain  asperities  I  day  by  day 

Would  wear  away, 


224  ARBOR   DAY 

Till  the  smooth  temper  of  my  age  should  be 
Like  the  high  leaves  upon  the  Holly-tree. 

And  as,  when  all  the  summer  trees  are  seen 

So  bright  and  green, 
The  Holly-leaves  a  sober  hue  display 

Less  bright  than  they, 
But  when  the  bare  and  wintry  woods  we  see, 
What  then  so  cheerful  as  the  Holly-tree  ? 

So  serious  should  my  youth  appear  among 

The  thoughtless  throng; 
So  would  I  seem,  amid  the  young  and  gay, 

More  grave  than  they, 
That  in  my  age  as  cheerful  I  might  be 
As  the  green  winter  of  the  Holly-tree. 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  TREES 

BY  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

To  the  great  tree-loving  fraternity  we  belong. 
We  love  trees  with  universal  and  unfeigned  love, 
and  all  things  that  do  grow  under  them,  or  around 
them  —  "the  whole  leaf  and  root  tribe.''  Not 
alone  where  they  are  in  their  glory,  but  in  whatever 
state  they  are  —  in  leaf,  or  ruined  with  frost,  or  pow- 
dered with  snow,  or  crystal-sheathed  in  ice,  or  in 
severe  outline  stripped  and  bare  against  a  Novem- 
ber sky  —  we  love  them.     Our  heart  warms  at  the 


A  DISCOURSE   ON  TREES  225 

sight  of  even  a  board  or  a  log.  A  lumber  yard  is 
better  than  nothing.  The  smell  of  wood,  at  least, 
is  there,  the  savory  fragrance  of  resin,  as  sweet  as 
myrrh  and  frankincense  ever  was  to  a  Jew  If 
we  can  get  nothing  better,  we  love  to  read  over 
the  names  of  trees  in  a  catalogue.  Many  an  hour 
have  we  sat  at  night,  when  after  exciting  work, 
we  needed  to  be  quieted,  and  read  nurserymen's 
catalogues,  and  London's  Encyclopedias,  and 
Arboretum,  until  the  smell  of  the  woods  exhaled 
from  the  page,  and  the  sound  of  leaves  was  in  our 
ears,  and  sylvan  glades  opened  to  our  eyes  that 
would  have  made  old  Chaucer  laugh  and  indite  a 
rapturous  rush  of  lines. 

But  how  much  more  do  we  love  trees  in  all  their 
summer  pomp  and  plenitude.  Not  for  their  names 
and  affinities,  not  for  their  secret  physiology  and  as 
material  for  science,  not  for  any  reason  that  we  can 
give,  except  that  when  with  them  we  are  happy. 
The  eye  is  full,  the  ear  is  full,  the  whole  sense  and 
all  the  tastes  solaced,  and  our  whole  nature  rejoices 
with  that  various  and  full  happiness  which  one  has 
when  the  soul  is  suspended  in  the  midst  of 
Beethoven's  symphonies  and  is  lifted  hither  and 
thither,  as  if  blown  by  sweet  sounds  through  the 
airy  passage  of  a  full  heavenly  dream. 

Our  first  excursion  in  Lenox  was  one  of  saluta- 
tion to  our  notable  trees.  We  had  a  nervous  anxiety 
to  see  that  the  axe  had  not  hewn,  nor  the  lightning 


226  ARBOR  DAY 

struck  them;  that  no  worm  had  gnawed  at  the 
root,  or  cattle  at  the  trunk;  that  their  branches  were 
not  broken,  nor  their  leaves  failing  from  drought. 
We  found  them  all  standing  in  their  uprightness. 
They  lifted  up  their  heads  toward  heaven,  and  sent 
down  to  us  from  all  their  boughs  a  leafy  whisper 
of  recognition  and  affection.  Blessed  be  the  dew 
that  cools  their  evening  leaves,  and  the  rains  that 
quench  their  daily  thirst!  May  the  storm  be  as 
merciful  to  them  when  in  winter  it  roars  through 
their  branches,  as  is  a  harper  to  his  harp!  Let  the 
snow  lie  lightly  on  their  boughs,  and  long  hence  be 
the  summer  that  shall  find  no  leaves  to  clothe  these 
nobles  of  the  pasture! 

First  in  our  regard,  as  it  is  in  the  whole  nobility 
of  trees,  stands  the  white  elm,  no  less  esteemed 
because  it  is  an  American  tree,  known  abroad  only 
by  importation,  and  never  seen  in  all  its  magnifi- 
cence, except  in  our  own  valleys.  The  old  oaks  of 
England  are  very  excellent  in  their  way,  gnarled 
and  rugged.  The  elm  has  strength  as  significant 
as  they,  and  a  grace,  a  royalty,  that  leaves  the  oak 
like  a  boor  in  comparison.  Had  the  elm  been  an 
English  tree,  and  had  Chaucer  seen  and  loved  and 
sung  it;  had  Shakespeare  and  every  English  poet 
hung  some  garlands  upon  it,  it  would  have  lifted 
up  its  head  now,  not  only  the  noblest  of  all  grow- 
ing things,  but  enshrined  in  a  thousand  rich  asso- 
ciations of  history  and  literature. 


A  DISCOURSE   ON  TREES  227 

Whoever  sees  a  hawthorn  or  a  sweetbrier  (the 
eglantine)  that  his  thoughts  do  not,  like  a  bolt  of 
light,  burst  through  ranks  of  poets,  and  ranges  of 
sparkling  conceits  which  have  been  born  since 
England  had  a  written  language,  and  of  which  the 
rose,  the  willow,  the  eglantine,  the  hawthorn,  and 
scores  of  other  vines  or  trees,  have  been  the  cause,  as 
they  are  now  and  forevermore  the  suggestors  and 
remembrancers  ?  Whoever  looks  upon  an  oak,  and 
does  not  think  of  navies,  of  storms,  of  battles  on  the 
ocean,  of  the  noble  Ijnrics  of  the  sea,  of  English 
glades,  of  the  fugitive  Charles,  the  tree-mounted 
monarch,  of  the  Heme  oak,  of  parks  and  forests, 
of  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men.  Friar  Tuck  not 
excepted;  of  old  baronial  halls  with  mellow  light 
streaming  through  diamond-shaped  panes  upon 
oaken  floors,  and  of  carved  oaken  wainscotings; 
And  who  that  has  ever  traveled  in  English  second- 
class,  cushionless  cars  has  not  other  and  less  genial 
remembrances  of  the  enduring  solidity  of  the  imper- 
vious, unelastic  oak? 

One  stalwart  oak  I  have,  and  only  one,  yet  dis- 
covered. On  my  west  line  is  a  fringe  of  forest, 
through  which  rushes,  in  spring,  trickles  in  early 
summer,  and  dies  out  entirely  in  August,  the  issues 
of  a  noble  spring  from  the  near  hillside.  On  the 
eastern  edge  of  this  belt  of  trees  stands  the  monarch- 
ical oak,  wide-branching  on  the  east  toward  the  open 
pasture  and  the  free  light,  but  on  its  western  side 


228  ARBOR  DAY 

lean  and  branchless  from  the  pressure  of  neighbor- 
ing trees;  for  trees,  like  men,  cannot  grow  to  the 
real  nature  that  is  in  them  when  crowded  by  too 
much  society.  Both  need  to  be  touched  on  every 
side  by  sun  and  air,  and  by  nothing  else,  if  they  are 
to  be  rounded  out  into  full  symmetry.  Growing 
right  up  by  its  side,  and  through  its  branches  is  a  long, 
wifely  elm  —  beauty  and  grace  imbosomed  by 
strength.  Their  leaves  come  and  go  together,  and 
all  the  summer  long  they  mingle  their  rustling  har- 
monies. Their  roots  pasture  in  the  same  soil, 
nor  could  either  of  them  be  hewn  down  without 
tearing  away  the  branches  and  marring  the  beauty 
of  the  other.  And  a  tree,  when  thoroughly  dis- 
branched, may,  by  time  and  care,  regain  its  health 
again,  but  never  its  beauty. 

Under  this  oak  I  love  to  sit  and  hear  all  the  things 
which  its  leaves  have  to  tell.  No  printed  leaves 
have  more  treasurife  of  history  or  of  literature  to 
those  who  know  how  to  listen.  But,  if  clouds  kindly 
shield  us  from  the  sun,  we  love  as  well  to  crouch  down 
on  the  grass  some  thirty  yards  off  and,  amidst  the 
fragrant  smell  of  crushed  herbs,  to  watch  the  fancies 
of  the  trees  and  clouds.  The  roguish  winds  will 
never  be  done  teasing  the  leaves,  that  run  away  and 
come  back,  with  nimble  playfulness.  Now  and  then 
a  stronger  puff  dashes  up  the  leaves,  showing  the 
downy  under-surfaces  that  flash  white  all  along  the 
up-blown  and  tremulous  forest  edge.    Now  the  wind 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  TREES  229 

draws  back  his  breath,  and  all  the  woods  are  still. 
Then  some  single  leaf  is  tickled,  and  quivers  all 
alone.  I  am  sure  there  is  no  wind.  The  other 
leaves  about  it  are  still.  Where  it  gets  its  motion 
I  cannot  tell,  but  there  it  goes  fanning  itself  and 
restless  among  its  sober  fellows.  By  and  by  one 
or  two  others  catch  the  impulse.  The  rest  hold 
out  a  moment,  but  soon  catching  the  contagious 
merriment,  away  goes  the  whole  tree  and  all  its 
neighbors,  the  leaves  running  in  ripples  all  down 
the  forest  side.  I  expect  almost  to  hear  them 
laugh  out  loud.  A  stroke  of  wind  upon  the  forest, 
indolently  swelling  and  subsiding,  is  like  a  stroke 
upon  a  hive  of  bees,  for  sound;  and  like  stirring  a 
fire  full  of  sparks  for  upspringing  thoughts  and 
ideal  suggestions.  The  melodious  whirl  draws  out 
a  flittering  swarm  of  sweet  images  that  play  before 
the  eye  like  those  evening  troops  of  gauzy  insects 
that  hang  in  the  air  between  you  and  the  sun,  and 
pipe  their  own  music,  and  flit  in  airy  rounds  of 
mingled  dance  as  if  the  whole  errand  of  their  lives 
was  to  swing  in  mazes  of  sweet  music. 

Different  species  of  trees  move  their  leaves  very 
differently,  so  that  one  may  sometimes  tell  by  the 
motion  of  shadows  on  the  ground,  if  he  be  too 
indolent  to  look  up,  under  what  kind  of  tree  he  is 
dozing.  On  the  tulip-tree  (which  has  the  finest 
name  that  ever  tree  had,  making  the  very  pronoun- 
cing of  its  name  almost  like  the  utterance  of  a 


230  ARBOR  DAY 

strain  of  music  —  liriodendron  tulipfera)  —  on  the 
tulip-tree,  the  aspen,  and  on  all  native  poplars, 
the  leaves  are  apparently  Anglo-Saxon  or  Germanic, 
having  an  intense  individualism.  Each  one  moves 
to  suit  itself.  Under  the  same  wind  one  is  trilling 
up  and  down,  another  is  whirling,  another  slowly 
vibrating  right  and  left,  and  others  still,  quieting 
themselves  to  sleep,  as  a  mother  gently  pats  her 
slumbering  child;  and  each  one  intent  upon  a 
motion  of  its  own.  Sometimes  other  trees  have 
single  frisky  leaves,  but,  usually,  the  oaks,  maples 
beeches,  have  community  of  motion.  They  are  all 
acting  together,  or  all  are  alike  still. 

What  is  sweeter  than  a  murmur  of  leaves,  unless 
it  be  the  musical  gurgling  of  water  that  runs  secretly 
and  cuts  under  the  roots  of  these  trees,  and  makes 
little  bubbling  pools  that  laugh  to  see  the  drops 
stumble  over  the  root  and  plump  down  into  its 
bosom!  In  such  nooks  could  trout  lie.  Unless  ye 
would  become  mermaids,  keep  far  from  such  places, 
all  innocent  grasshoppers,  and  all  ebony  crickets! 
Do  not  believe  in  appearances.  You  peer  over 
and  know  an  enemy  lurks  in  that  fairy  pool. 
You  can  see  every  nook  and  corner  of  it,  and  it  is 
as  sweet  a  bathing-pool  as  ever  was  swam  by  long- 
legged  grasshoppers.  Over  the  root  comes  a  butter- 
fly with  both  sails  a  little  drabbled,  and  quicker 
than  light  he  is  plucked  down,  leaving  three  or 
four  bubbles  behind  him,  fit  emblems  of  a  butter- 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  TREES  231 

fly's  life.  There!  did  I  not  tell  you?  Now  go  away, 
all  maiden  crickets  and  grasshoppers!  These  fair 
surfaces,  so  pure,  so  crystalline,  so  surely  safe,  have 
a  trout  somewhere  in  them  lying  in  wait  for  you! 

But  what  if  one  sits  between  both  kinds  of  music, 
leaves  above  and  water  below?  What  if  birds  are 
among  the  leaves,  sending  out  random  calls,  far- 
piercing  and  sweet,  as  if  they  were  lovers  saying: 
"My  dear,  are  you  there?"  If  you  are  half  reclin- 
ing upon  a  cushion  of  fresh  new  moss,  that  swells 
up  between  the  many-piled  and  twisted  roots  of  a 
huge  beech  tree,  and  if  you  have  been  there  half 
an  hour  without  moving,  and  if  you  will  still  keep 
motionless;  you  may  see  what  they  who  only  walk 
through  forests  never  see.    .    .    . 

Thus  do  you  stand,  noble  elms!  Lifted  up  so 
high  are  your  topmost  boughs,  that  no  indolent 
birds  care  to  seek  you;  and  only  those  of  nimble 
wings,  and  they  with  unwonted  beat,  that  love 
exertion,  and  aspire  to  sing  where  none  sing  higher. 
Aspiration!  so  Heaven  gives  it  pure  as  flames 
to  the  noble  bosom.  But  debased  with  passion  and 
selfishness  it  comes  to  be  only  Ambition! 

It  was  in  the  presence  of  this  pasture-elm,  which  we 
name  the  Queen,  that  we  first  felt  to  our  very  mar- 
row, that  we  had  indeed  become  owners  of  the  soil. 
It  was  with  a  feeling  of  awe  that  we  looked  up  into 
its  face,  and  when  I  whispered  to  myself:  "This  is 
mine,"   there  was  a  shrinking  as  if  there  were 


232  ARBOR  DAY 

sacrilege  in  the  very  thought  of  property  in  such  a 
creature  of  God  as  this  cathedral- topped  tree!  Does 
a  man  bare  his  head  in  some  old  church?  So  did 
I,  standing  in  the  shadow  of  this  regal  tree,  and 
looking  up  into  that  completed  glory,  at  which 
three  hundred  years  have  been  at  work  with  noise- 
less fingers!  What  was  I  in  its  presence  but  a 
grasshopper?  My  heart  said:  "I  may  not  call 
thee  property,  and  that  property  mine!  Thou 
belongest  to  the  air.  Thou  art  the  child  of  summer. 
Thou  art  the  mighty  temple  where  birds  praise 
God.  Thou  belongest  to  no  man*s  hand,  but  to  all 
men's  eyes  that  do  love  beauty,  and  that  have 
learned  through  beauty  to  behold  God!  Stand, 
then,  in  thine  own  beauty  and  grandeur!  I  shall 
be  a  lover  and  a  protector,  to  keep  drought  from 
thy  roots,  and  the  axe  from  thy  trunk." 

For,  remorseless  men  there  are  crawling  yet 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  smitten  blind  and  inwardly 
dead,  whose  only  thought  of  a  tree  of  ages  is,  that  it 
is  food  for  the  axe  and  the  saw!  These  are  the 
wretches  of  whom  the  Scripture  speaks;  "-4  man 
was  famous  according  as  he  had  lifted  up  axes  upon 
the  thick  trees. ^^ 

Thus  famous,  or  rather  infamous,  was  the  last 
owner  but  one,  before  me,  of  this  farm.  Upon  the 
crown  of  the  hill,  just  where  an  artist  would  have 
planted  them,  had  he  wished  to  have  them  exactly 
in  the  right  place,  grew  some  two  hundred  stalwart 


A   DISCOURSE  ON  TREES  233 

and  ancient  maples,  beeches,  ashes,  and  oaks,  a 
narrow  belt-like  forest,  forming  a  screen  from  the 
northern  and  western  winds  in  winter,  and  a  harp 
of  endless  music  for  the  summer.  The  wretched 
owner  of  this  farm,  tempted  of  the  Devil,  cut  down 
the  whole  blessed  band  and  brotherhood  of  trees, 
that  he  might  fill  his  pocket  with  two  pitiful  dollars 
a  cord  for  the  wood!  Well,  his  pocket  was  the 
best  part  of  him.  The  iron  furnaces  have  devoured 
my  grove,  and  their  huge  stumps,  that  stood  like 
gravestones,  have  been  cleared  away,  that  a  grove 
may  be  planted  in  the  same  spot,  for  the  next  hun- 
dred years  to  nourish  into  the  stature  and  glory 
of  that  which  is  gone. 

In  other  places  I  find  the  memorials  of  many 
noble  trees  slain;  here,  a  hemlock  that  carried  up 
its  eternal  green  a  hundred  feet  into  the  winter  air; 
there,  a  huge  double- trunked  chestnut,  dear  old 
grandfather  of  hundreds  of  children  that  have  for 
generations  clubbed  its  boughs,  or  shook  its  nut- 
laden  top,  and  laughed  and  shouted  as  bushels  of 
chestnuts  rattled  down.  Now,  the  tree  exists  only 
in  the  form  of  looped-holed  posts  and  weather- 
browned  rails.  I  do  hope  the  fellow  got  a  sliver  in 
his  fingers  every  time  he  touched  the  hemlock 
plank,  or  let  down  the  bars  made  of  those  chestnut 
rails! 

To  most  people  a  grove  is  a  grove,  and  all  groves 
are  alike.    But  no  two  groves  are  alike.    There 


234  ARBOR  DAY 

is  as  marked  a  difference  between  different  forests 
as  between  different  communities.  A  grove  of  pines 
without  underbrush,  carpeted  with  the  fine-fingered 
russet  leaves  of  the  pine,  and  odorous  of  resinous 
gums,  has  scarcely  a  trace  of  likeness  to  a  maple 
woods,  either  in  the  insects,  the  birds,  the  shrubs, 
the  light  and  shade,  or  the  sound  of  its  leaves. 
If  we  lived  in  olden  times  among  young  mythol- 
ogies, we  should  say  that  pines  held  the  imprisoned 
spirits  of  naiads  and  water-nymphs,  and  that  their 
sounds  were  of  the  water  for  whose  lucid  depths 
they  always  sighed.  At  any  rate,  the  first  pines 
must  have  grown  on  the  seashore,  and  learned 
their  first  accents  from  the  surf  and  the  waves; 
and  all  their  posterity  have  inherited  the  sound, 
and  borne  it  inland  to  the  mountains. 

I  like  best  a  forest  of  mingled  trees,  ash,  maple, 
oak,  beech,  hickory,  and  evergreens,  with  birches 
growing  along  the  edges  of  the  brook  that  carries 
itself  through  the  roots  and  stones,  toward  the 
willows  that  grow  in  yonder  meadow.  It  should 
be  deep  and  sombre  in  some  directions,  running  off 
into  shadowy  recesses  and  coverts  beyond  all  foot- 
steps. In  such  a  wood  there  is  endless  variety. 
It  will  breathe  as  many  voices  to  your  fancy  as 
might  be  brought  from  any  organ  beneath  the 
pressure  of  some  Handel's  hands.  By  the  way, 
Handel  and  Beethoven  always  remind  me  of  forests. 
So  do  some  poets,  whose  numbers  are  various  as  the 


FOREIGN  LANDS  235 

infinity  of  vegetation,  fine  as  the  choicest  cut  leaves, 
strong  and  rugged  in  places  as  the  unbarked  trunk 
and  gnarled  roots  at  the  ground's  surface.  Is  there 
any  other  place,  except  the  seaside,  where  hours 
are  so  short  and  moments  so  swift  as  in  a  forest? 
Where  else,  except  in  the  rare  communion  of  those 
friends  much  loved,  do  we  awake  from  pleasure, 
whose  calm  flow  is  without  a  ripple,  into  surprise 
that  whole  hours  are  gone  which  we  thought  but 
just  begun  —  blossomed  and  dropped,  which  we 
thought  but  just  budding! 


FOREIGN  LANDS 

BY  ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON 

Up  into  the  cherry-tree 

Who  should  climb  but  little  me? 

I  held  the  trunk  with  both  my  hands^ 

And  looked  abroad  on  foreign  lands. 

I  saw  the  next-door  garden  lie. 
Adorned  with  flowers,  before  my  eye, 
And  many  pleasant  places  more 
That  I  had  never  seen  before. 

I  saw  the  dimpling  river  pass 
And  be  the  sky's  blue  looking-glass; 
And  dusty  roads  go  up  and  down, 
And  people  tramping  into  town. 


236  ARBOR  DAY 

If  I  could  find  a  higher  tree, 
Farther  and  farther  I  could  see, 
To  where  the  grown-up  river  slips 
Into  the  sea  among  the  ships  — 

To  where  the  roads  on  either  hand 
Lead  onward  into  fairyland, 
Where  all  the  children  dine  at  five, 
And  all  the  playthings  are  alive. 


THE  POPULAR  POPLAR  TREE 

BY  BLANCHE   WILLIS  HOWARD 

When  the  great  wind  sets  things  whirling, 

And  rattles  the  window-panes, 
And  blows  the  dust  in  giants 

And  dragons  tossing  their  manes; 
When  the  willows  have  waves  like  water, 

And  children  are  shouting  with  glee; 
When  the  pines  are  alive  and  the  larches  — 

Then  hurrah  for  you  and  me. 
In  the  tip  o'  the  top  o'  the  top  o'  the  tip  of  the  popu- 
lar poplar  tree! 

Don't  talk  about  Jack  and  the  Beanstalk  — 

He  did  not  climb  half  so  high! 
And  Alice  in  all  her  travels 

Was  never  so  near  the  sky! 


THE   BEECH  TREE'S   PETITION     237 

Only  the  swallow,  a-skimming 

The  storm-cloud  over  the  lea, 
Knows  how  it  feels  to  be  flying  — 

When  the  gusts  come  strong  and  free  — 
In  the  tip  o'  the  top  o'  the  top  o'  the  tip  of  the  popu- 
lar poplar  tree! 


THE  BEECH  TREE'S  PETITION 

BY  THOMAS  CAMPBELL 

Leave  this  barren  spot  to  me ! 
Spare,  woodman,  spare  the  beechen  tree! 
Though  bush  or  floweret  never  grow 
My  dark,  unwarming  shade  below; 
Nor  summer  bud  perfume  the  dew 
Of  rosy  blush,  or  yellow  hue! 
Nor  fruits  of  autumn,  blossom-born, 
My  green  and  glossy  leaves  adorn; 
Nor  murmuring  tribes  from  me  derive 
Th'  ambrosial  amber  of  the  hive; 
Yet  leave  this  barren  spot  to  me: 
Spare,  woodman,  spare  the  beechen  tree! 

Thrice  twenty  summers  I  have  seen 
The  sky  grow  bright,  the  forest  green; 
And  many  a  wintry  wind  have  stood 
In  bloomless,  fruitless  solitude. 
Since  childhood  in  my  pleasant  bower 
First  spent  its  sweet  and  sportive  hour; 


238  ARBOR  DAY 

Since  youthful  lovers  in  my  shade 
Their  vows  of  truth  and  rapture  made; 
And  on  my  trunk's  surviving  frame 
Carved  many  a  long-forgotten  name. 
Oh!  by  the  sighs  of  gentle  sound, 
First  breathed  upon  this  sacred  ground; 
By  all  that  Love  has  whisper'd  here, 
Or  beauty  heard  with  ravished  ear; 
As  Love's  own  altar  honor  me: 
Spare,  woodman,  spare  the  beechen  tree! 


WOOD-SONG* 

BY  JOSEPHINE  PRESTON  PEABODY 

Love  must  be  a  fearsome  thing 

That  can  bind  a  maid 
Glad  of  life  as  leaves  in  spring, 

Swift  and  unafraid. 

I  could  find  a  heart  to  sing 

Death  and  darkness,  praise  or  blame; 

But  before  that  name, 
Heedfully,  oh,  heedfully, 

Do  I  lock  my  breast; 
I  am  silent  as  a  tree, 

Guardful  of  the  nest. 

Ah,  my  passing  Woodlander, 
Heard  you  any  note  ? 


*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  MiflBin  &  Co. 


TO  A  MAPLE  SEED  239 

Would  you  find  a  leaf  astir 
From  a  wilding  throat? 

Surely,  all  the  paths  defer 

Unto  such  a  gentle  quest. 

Would  you  take  the  nest? 
Follow  where  the  sun-motes  are! 

Truly  'tis  a  sorrow 
I  must  bid  you  fare  so  far; 

Speed  you,  and  good-morrow! 


THE  WIND  IN  THE  PINES 

BY  MADISON  CAWEIN 

When  winds  go  organing  through  the  pines 
On  hill  and  headland,  darkly  gleaming, 

Meseems  I  hear  sonorous  lines 
Of  Iliads  that  the  woods  are  dreaming. 


TO  A  MAPLE  SEED* 

BY  LLOYD  MIFFLIN 

Art  thou  some  winged  Sprite,  that,  fluttering  round, 
Exhausted  on  the  grass  at  last  doth  lie. 
Or  wayward  Fay  ?    Ah,  weakling,  by  and  by 
Thyself  shalt  grow  a  giant,  strong  and  sound. 
When,  like  Antaeus,  thou  dost  touch  the  ground. 

♦Used  by  permission  of  the  author. 


240  ARBOR   DAY 

0  happy  Seed!    It  is  not  thine  to  die; 
Thy  wings  bestow  thine  immortality, 

And  thou  canst  bridge  the  deep  and  dark  profound. 

1  hear  the  ecstatic  song  the  wild  bird  flings, 
In  future  summers,  from  thy  leafy  head ! 

What  hopes!  what  fears!  what  rapturous  sufferings 
What  burning  words  of  love  will  there  be  said! 
What  sobs  —  what  tears!  what  passionate  whisper- 
ings! 
Under  thy  boughs,  when  I,  alas!  am  dead. 


FROM 

SUNRISE* 

BY   SIDNEY  LANIER 

I  HAVE  waked,  I  have  come,  my  beloved!    I  might 

not  abide: 
I  have  come  ere  the  dawn,  O  beloved,  my  live-oaks, 

to  hide 
In  your  gospelling  glooms  —  to  be 
As  a  lover  in  heaven,  the  marsh  my  marsh  and  the 

sea  my  sea. 

Tell  me,  sweet  burly-bark'd,  man-bodied  Tree 
That  mine  arms  in  the  dark  are  embracing,  dost 

know 
From  what  fount  are  these  tears  at  thy  feet  which 

flow? 

*From  "  The  Poems  of  Sidney  Lanier,"  copyright,  1884,  189 1, 
by  Mary  D.  Lanier;  published  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


SUNRISE  241 

They  rise  not  from  reason,  but  deeper,  inconsequent 
deeps. 

Reason's  not  one  that  weeps. 
What  logic  of  greeting  lies 
Betwixt  dear  over-beautiful  trees  and  the  rain  of  the 
eyes? 

O  cunning  green  leaves,  little  masters!  like  as  ye 

gloss 
All  the  dull-tissued  dark  with  your  luminous  darks 
that  emboss 
The  vague  blackness  of  night  into  pattern  and 
plan, 
So 
(But  would  I  could  know,  but  would  I  could  know) 
With  your  question  embroid'ring  the  dark  of  the 

question  of  man  — 
So,  with  your  silences  purfling  this  silence  of  man. 
While  his  cry  to  the  dead  for  some  knowledge  is 
under  the  ban. 
Under  the  ban  — 
So,  ye  have  wrought  me 
Designs  on  the  night  of  our  knowledge  —  yea,  ye 
have  taught  me, 
So, 
That  haply  we  know  somewhat  more  than  we  know. 

Ye  lisperers,  whisperers,  singers  in  storms. 
Ye  consciences  murmuring  faiths  under  forms, 
Ye  ministers  meet  for  each  passion  that  grieves, 


242  ARBOR  DAY 

Friendly,  sisterly,  sweetheart  leaves, 

Oh,  rain  me  down  from  your  darks  that  contain  me 

Wisdoms  ye  winnow  from  winds  that  pain  me  — 

Sift  down  tremors  of  sweet-within-sweet 

That  advise  me  of  more  than  they  bring  —  repeat 

Me  the  wood  smell  that  swiftly  but  now  brought 

breath 
From  the  heaven-side  bank  of  the  river  of  death  — 
Teach  me  the  terms  of  silence  — preach  me 
The  passion  of  patience  —  sift  me  —  impeach  me, 
And  there,  oh  there. 
As  ye  hang  with  your  myriad  palms  upturned  in 
the  air, 
Pray  me  a  myriad  prayer. 


VI 
FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES  OF  GRASS 


A  HAPPY  THOUGHT 

OF  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER'S 

Flowers  are  the  sweetest  things  that  God  ever 
made  and  forgot  to  put  a  soul  into. 


FLOWERS 

BY  JOHN  MILTON 

From  Lycidas 
Ye  valleys  low,  where  the  mild  whispers  rise 
Of  shades  and  wanton  winds  and  gushing  brooks, 
On  whose  fresh  lap  the  swart  star  sparely  looks, 
Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamel'd  eyes. 
That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honey'd  showers, 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  forsaken  dies. 
The  tufted  crow-toe  and  pale  jessamine. 
The  white  pink  and  the  pansy  freaked  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet, 

The  musk  rose,  and  the  well-attired  woodbine, 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head. 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears; 
Bid  Amaranthus  all  his  beauty  shed, 
And  daffodillies  fill  their  cups  with  tears. 
To  strew  the  laureate  hearse  where  Lycid  lies. 

245 


246  ARBOR  DAY 


PLANTS  AND  FLOWERS 

BY  JOHN  RUSKIN 

Wonderful,  in  universal  adaptation  to  man's 
need,  God's  daily  preparation  of  the  earth  with 
beautiful  means  of  life.  First,  a  carpet,  to  make  it 
soft  for  him;  then  a  colored  fantasy  of  embroidery 
thereon;  then,  tall  spreading  of  foliage,  to  shade 
him  from  sun-heat,  and  shade  also  the  fallen  rain, 
that  it  may  not  dry  quickly  into  the  clouds,  but  stay 
to  nourish  the  springs  among  the  moss.  Stout  wood 
to  bear  this  leafage;  easily  to  be  cut,  yet  tough  and 
light,  to  make  houses  for  him,  or  instruments;  useless 
it  had  been  if  harder;  useless  if  less  fibrous;  useless 
if  less  elastic. 

Winter  comes,  and  the  shade  of  leafage  falls 
away,  to  let  the  sun  warm  the  earth;  the 
strong  boughs  remain,  breaking  the  strength  of 
winter  winds.  The  seeds,  which  are  to  prolong 
the  race,  innumerable  according  to  the  need,  are 
made  beautiful  and  palatable,  varied  into  in- 
finitude of  appeal  to  the  fancy  of  man,  or  pro- 
vision for  his  service;  cold  juice  or  flowing 
spice,  or  balm,  or  incense,  softening  oil,  pre- 
serving resin,  medicine  of  febrifuge  or  lulling 
charm;  and  all  these  presented  in  forms  of  endless 
change. 


SEEKING  THE  MAYFLOWER        247 
SEEKING  THE  MAYFLOWER* 

BY  EDMUND  CLARENCE  STEDMAN 

The  sweetest  sound  our  whole  year  round  — 

'Tis  the  first  robin  of  the  spring! 
The  song  of  the  full  orchard  choir 

Is  not  so  fine  a  thing. 

Glad  sights  are  common:  Nature  draws 
Her  random  pictures  through  the  year, 

But  oft  her  music  bids  us  long 
Remember  those  most  dear. 

To  me,  when  in  the  sudden  spring 

I  hear  the  earliest  robin's  lay, 
With  the  first  trill  there  comes  again 

One  picture  of  the  May. 

The  veil  is  parted  wide,  and  lo, 
A  moment  though  my  eyelids  close, 

Once  more  I  see  that  wooded  hill 
Where  the  arbutus  grows. 

I  see  the  village  dryad  kneel, 

Trailing  her  slender  fingers  through 
The  knotted  tendrils,  as  she  lifts 

Their  pink,  pale  flowers  to  view. 

*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


248  ARBOR  DAY 

Once  more  I  dare  to  stoop  beside 
The  dove-eyed  beauty  of  my  choice, 

And  long  to  touch  her  careless  hair, 
And  think  how  dear  her  voice. 

My  eager,  wandering  hands  assist 
With  fragrant  blooms  her  lap  to  fill, 

And  half  by  chance  they  meet  her  own, 
Half  by  our  young  hearts'  will. 

Till,  at  the  last,  those  blossoms  won  — 
Like  her,  so  pure,  so  sweet,  so  shy  — 

Upon  the  gray  and  lichened  rocks 
Close  at  her  feet  I  lie. 

Fresh  blows  the  breeze  through  hemlock  trees, 
The  fields  are  edged  with  green  below; 

And  naught  but  youth  and  hope  and  love 
We  know  or  care  to  know! 

Hark!  from  the  moss-clung  apple-bough. 
Beyond  the  tumbled  wall,  there  broke 

That  gurgling  music  of  the  May  — 
'Twas  the  first  robin  spoke! 

I  heard  it,  ay,  and  heard  it  not  — 
For  little  then  my  glad  heart  wist 

What  toil  and  time  should  come  to  passi 
And  what  delight  be  missed; 


CHILDREN  AND  FLOWERS         249 

Nor  thought  thereafter,  year  by  year, 

Hearing  that  fresh  yet  olden  song, 
To  yearn  for  unreturning  joys 

That  with  its  joy  belong. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYACINTH 

ANONYMOUS 

Hyacinth  was  a  beautiful  youth  beloved  by 
Apollo.  He  was  playing  one  day  at  discus-throwing 
with  the  god,  when  Zephyrus,  the  West  Wind, 
enraged  at  Hyacinthus  for  preferring  Apollo  to 
himself,  caused  one  of  the  discuses  to  rebound  and 
strike  him  in  the  face.  Apollo,  in  despair,  seeing 
that  he  was  unable  to  save  his  life,  changed  him 
into  the  flower  which  bears  his  name,  on  whose 
petals  Grecian  fancy  traced  ai,  ai,  the  notes  of  grief. 


CHILDREN  AND  FLOWERS 

BY  AMANDA  B.  HARRIS 

From  Wild  Flower  Papers 

What  do  these  children  do  who  never  have  a 

chance  to  gather  wild  flowers  —  the  flowers  that 

bloom  so  lavishly;  more  than  enough  for  everybody, 

in  the  dear  country-places? 

Never  to  have  been  where  violets  grow,  or  arbutus, 


250  ARBOR  DAY 

or  down  in  those  lovely  woods  among  the  beds  of 
linnaea!  Never  to  have  found  the  spring-beauty 
and  the  wood-sorrel,  and  the  dog's-tooth  violet,  and 
Jack-in- the-pulpit!  Never  to  have  seen  banks 
of  scarlet  columbine,  and  a  whole  milky-way  of  the 
silvery  miterwort!  Never  to  have  come  home  from 
the  pasture  with  lady's  slippers  and  red  lilies; 
or  been  on  the  meadows  in  cowslip  time,  or  by  the 
pond  when  the  lilies  were  open!  Never  to  have 
had  all  the  goldenrod  and  asters  one  wanted! 

It  seems  as  if  a  child  had  not  had  his  rightful  share 
in  this  world  when  he  has  been  limited  to  some  pent- 
up  court  or  narrow  street.  Every  child  is  born  with 
a  love  for  flowers.  Yet  many  a  little  one  must  be 
satisfied  with  the  dandelion  that  comes  up  in  the 
backyard,  which  the  eager  fingers  reach  for  as  a 
miser  would  for  gold. 

Every  generous  boy  and  girl  who  has  been  used 
to  having  wild  flowers  enough  must  have  often 
longed  to  share  them  with  those  who  had  none; 
to  send  them  by  the  barrel  full;  to  load  down  express 
wagons  with  daisies  and  lilies  (oh,  so  many  there  are 
on  the  green  meadows  in  midsummer!)  and  have 
them  distributed  all  along  those  city  byways,  and 
in  the  hospitals  where  sick  children  are  lying  in 
pain.  It  would  be  like  opening  the  doors  and  letting 
the  country  in;  for  they  would  carry  with  them  the 
dew  of  the  meadows,  and  the  woodsy  smells.  You 
could  almost  seem  to  hear  the  cow-bells  tinkle,  the 


THE  PRIMROSES  251 

singing  of  birds,  the  gurgling  of  happy  brooks,  mur- 
mur of  bees,  and  lowing  of  cattle,  and  the  whistle  of 
the  farm  boys  at  their  work;  for  they  all  belong 
together. 


THE  VIOLET  UNDER  THE  SNOW 

BY  RACHEL  CAPEN  SCHAUFFLER 

To  THEE  I  would  bring 

Through  all  thy  dead  winter 
Th'  perfume  of  Spring. 

With  thee  I  would  share 
The  gold  in  the  burden 
Brave  hearts  have  to  bear. 

Art  happy  to  see, 

O  Child  of  the  Purplci 
A  Brother  in  me? 


THE  PRIMROSES* 

BY  W.  GRAHAM  ROBERTSON 

What  has  happened  in  the  night? 

All  the  stars  are  fallen  down! 
Won't  they  set  the  earth  a-light? 

—  Earth  so  old  and  brown. 
We  can  pick  them  as  we  pass. 
Scattered  shining  on  the  grass. 


*  Published  by  the  John  Lane  Company,  New  York  and  London. 


252  ARBOR  DAY 

Here  is  Venus,  here  is  Mars, 
Here's  a  bunch  of  Pleiades. 

(Did  you  ever  know  that  stars 
Smelt  as  sweet  as  these  ?) 

Here's  a  golden  girdle,  too; 

What  will  poor  Orion  do? 

Let  us,  from  some  hidden  nook, 
Watch  for  Folk  Beyond  the  Moon. 

Don't  you  think  they'll  come  to  look 
For  the  truants  soon? 

Wait  until  the  sun  has  set, 

For  they  won't  have  missed  them  yet. 


A  SAYING  OF  LINN^US* 

BY  JOHN  FISKE 

From  Through  Nature  to  God 
I  OFTEN  think,  when  working  over  my  plants,  of 
what  Linnaeus  once  said  of  the  unfolding  of  a  blos- 
som: "I  saw  God  in  His  glory  passing  near  me,  and 
bowed  my  head  in  worship."  The  scientific  aspect 
of  the  same  thought  has  been  put  into  words  by 
Tennyson: 

Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 

I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies; 

Hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 

Little  flower  —  but  if  I  could  understand 

What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 

I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is. 


*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miffin  &  Co. 


OF  GARDENS  253 

No  deeper  thought  was  ever  uttered  by  poet. 
For  in  this  world  of  plants,  which  with  its  magician, 
chlorophyll,  conjuring  with  sunbeams,  is  ceaselessly 
at  work  bringing  life  out  of  death  —  and  in  this  quiet 
vegetable  world  we  may  find  the  elementary  prin- 
ciples of  all  life  in  almost  visible  operation. 


OF  GARDENS 

BY  FRANCIS  BACON 

And  because  the  breath  of  flowers  is  far  sweeter 
in  the  air,  where  it  comes  and  goes,  like  the  warbling 
of  music,  than  in  the  hand,  therefore  nothing  is 
more  for  that  delight,  than  to  know  what  be  the 
flowers  and  plants  that  do  best  perfume  the  air. 
That  which  above  all  others  yields  the  sweetest  smell 
in  the  air  is  the  violet;  especially  the  white  double 
violet,  which  comes  twice  a  year,  about  the  middle 
of  April,  and  about  Bartholomew- tide.  Next  to 
that  is  the  musk  rose;  then  the  strawberry  leaves 
dying,  with  a  most  excellent  cordial  smell;  then  the 
flower  of  the  vines  —  it  is  a  little  dust,  like  the  dust 
of  a  bent,  which  grows  upon  the  cluster,  in  the  first 
coming  forth;  then  sweetbrier;  then  wallflowers, 
which  are  very  delightful,  to  be  set  under  a  parlor, 
or  lower  chamber  window;  then  pinks  and  gilly- 
flowers, especially  the  matted  pink  and  clove  gilly- 
flower;  then  the  flowers  of  the  lime  tree;   then  the 


254  ARBOR   DAY 

honeysuckles,  so  they  be  somewhat  afar  off.  Of 
bean-flowers,  I  speak  not,  because  they  are  field 
flowers;  but  those  which  perfume  the  air  most 
delightfully,  not  passed  by  as  the  rest,  but  being 
trodden  upon  and  crushed,  are  three;  that  is,  burnet, 
wild  thyme,  and  water  mints.  Therefore  you  are  to 
set  whole  alleys  of  them,  to  have  the  pleasure  when  you 
walk  or  tread. 


I  KNOW  A  BANK 

BY  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

I  KNOW  a  bank  whereon  the  wild-thyme  blows, 
Where  oxlips,  and  the  nodding  violet  grows; 
Quite  over-canopied  with  lush  woodbine. 
With  sweet  musk-roses,  and  with  eglantine: 
There  sleeps  Titania,  some  time  of  the  night, 
Lull'd  in  these  flowers  with  dances  and  delight; 
And  there  the  snake  throws  her  enamel'd  skin, 
Weed  wide  enough  to  wrap  a  fairy  in. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS* 

BY  WALT  WHITMAN 

A  CHILD  said.  What  is  the  grass  ?  fetching  it  to  me 

with  full  hands; 
How  could  I  answer  the  child  ?    I  do  not  know  what 

it  is  any  more  than  he. 

*  From  "  Leaves  of  Grass,"  etc.,  published  by  David  McKay, 
Philadelphia,  Pa. 


LEAVES  OF  GRASS  an 

1  guess  it  must  be  the  flag  of  my  disposition,  out  of 

hopeful  green  stuff  woven. 
Or  I  guess  it  is  the  handkerchief  of  the  Lord, 
A    scented    gift    and    remembrancer    designedly 

dropped, 
Bearing  the  owner's  name  someway  in  the  corners, 

that  we  may  see  and  remark,  and  say  Whose? 
Or  I  guess  the  grass  is  itself  a  child,  the  produced 

babe  of  the  vegetation. 
Or  I  guess  it  is  a  uniform  hieroglyphic. 
And  it  means.  Sprouting  alike  in  broad  zones  and 

narrow  zones. 
Growing  among  black  folks  as  among  white, 
Kanuck,  Tuckahoe,  Congressman,  Cuff,  I  give  them 

the  same,  I  receive  them  the  same. 
And  now  it  seems  to  me  the  beautiful  uncut  hair  of 

graves. 
Tenderly  will  I  use  you,  curling  grass, 
It  may  be  you  transpire  from  the  breasts  of  young  men. 
It  may  be  if  I  had  known  them  I  would  have  loved 

them. 
It  may  be  you  are  from  old  people,  or  from  offspring 

taken  soon  out  of  their  mothers*  laps, 
And  here  you  are  the  mothers'  laps. 
This  grass  is  very  dark  to  be  from  the  white  heads 

of  old  mothers. 
Darker  than  the  colorless  beards  of  old  men, 
Dark  to  come  from  under  the  faint  red  roofs  of  mouths. 
Oh,  I  perceive  after  all  so  many  uttering  tongues, 


256  ARBOR  DAY 

And  I  perceive  they  do  not  come  from  the  roofs  of 

mouths  for  nothing. 
I  wish  I  could  translate  the  hints  about  the  dead 

young  men  and  women, 
And  the  hints  about  old  men  and  mothers,  and  the 

offspring  taken  soon  out  of  their  laps. 
What  do  you  think  has  become  of  the  young  and  old 

men? 
And  what  do  you  think  has  become  of  the  women 

and  children? 
They  are  alive  and  well  somewhere,  the  smallest 

sprout  shows  there  is  really  no  death. 
And  if  ever  there  was  it  led  forward  life,  and  does  not 

wait  at  the  end  to  arrest  it. 
And  ceased  the  moment  life  appeared. 
All  goes  onward  and  outward,  nothing  collapses. 
And  to  die  is  different  from  what  any  one  supposed, 

and  luckier. 

I  know  I  am  deathless, 

I  know  this  orbit  of  mine  cannot  be  swept  by  a 

carpenter's  compass, 
I  know  I  shall  not  pass  like  a  child's  carlacue  cut  with 

a  burnt  stick  at  night. 

One  world  is  away  and  by  far  the  largest  to  me,  and 

that  is  myself. 
And  whether  I  come  to  my  own  to-day  or  in  ten 

thousand  or  ten  million  years, 


A  WILD  STRAWBERRY  257 

I  can  cheerfully  take  it  now,  or  with  equal  cheerful- 
ness I  can  wait. 
My  foothold  is  tenoned  and  mortised  in  granite, 
I  laugh  at  what  you  call  dissolution, 
And  I  know  the  amplitude  of  time. 


THE  STORY  OF  NARCISSUS 

ANONYMOUS 

Narcissus  was  a  beautiful  youth,  who,  seeing  his 
image  reflected  in  a  fountain,  became  so  enamored 
of  it  that  he  pined  away  and  was  finally  changed  into 
the  flower  that  bears  his  name.  Poetic  legends 
regard  this  as  a  just  punishment  for  his  hard-hearted- 
ness  to  Echo,  and  other  wood-nymphs  and  maidens, 
who  had  loved  him  devotedly. 

The  narcissus  loves  the  borders  of  streams,  and  is 
admirably  personified  in  the  story,  for  bending  on  its 
fragile  stem  it  seems  to  be  always  seeking  to  see  its 
own  image  reflected  in  the  waters. 


FROM 

A  WILD    STRAWBERRY* 

BY  HENRY  VAN  DYKE 

For  my  own  part,  I  approve  of  garden  flowers 
because  they  are  so  orderly  and  so  certain;  but  wild 

*  From  "  Fisherman's  Luck,"  copyright,  1899,  1905,  by  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons. 


258  ARBOR  DAY 

flowers  I  love,  just  because  there  is  so  much  chance 
about  them.  Nature  is  all  in  favor  of  certainty  in 
great  laws  and  of  uncertainty  in  small  events.  You 
cannot  appoint  the  day  and  the  place  for  her  flower 
shows.  If  you  happen  to  drop  in  at  the  right  mo- 
ment she  will  give  you  a  free  admission.  But  even 
then  it  seems  as  if  the  table  of  beauty  had  been 
spread  for  the  joy  of  a  higher  visitor,  and  in  obedi- 
ence to  secret  orders  which  you  have  not  heard. 


FLOWERS* 

BY  H.  W.  LONGFELLOW 

Spake  full  well,  in  language  quaint  and  olden, 
One  who  dwelleth  by  the  castled  Rhine, 

When  he  called  the  flowers,  so  blue  and  golden. 
Stars,  that  in  earth's  firmament  do|]shine. 

Stars  they  are,  wherein  we  read  our  history. 

As  astrologers  and  seers  of  old; 
Yet  not  wrapped  about  with  awful  mystery, 

Like  the  burning  stars  which  they  behold. 

Wondrous  truths,  and  manifold  as  wondrous, 
God  hath  written  in  those  stars  above; 

But  not  less  in  the  bright  flowerets  under  us 
Stands  the  revelation  of  his  love. 


*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


FLOWERS  nig 

Bright  and  glorious  is  that  revelation, 
Written  all  over  this  great  world  of  ours, 

Making  evident  our  own  creation 
In  these  stars  of  earth,  these  golden  flowers. 

And  the  Poet,  faithful  and  far-seeing. 
Sees,  alike  in  stars  and  flowers,  a  part 

Of  the  self-same,  universal  being 
Which  is  throbbing  in  his  brain  and  heart 

Gorgeous  flowerets  in  the  sunlight  shining, 

Blossoms  flaunting  in  the  eye  of  day, 
Tremulous  leaves  with  soft  and  silver  lining. 

Buds  that  open  only  to  decay, 

Brilliant  hopes  all  woven  in  gorgeous  tissues, 

Flaunting  gayly  in  the  golden  light; 
Large  desires,  with  most  uncertain  issues, 

Tender  wishes,  blossoming  at  night. 

Those  in  flowers  and  men  are  more  than  seeming; 

Workings  are  they  of  the  self-same  powers 
Which  the  Poet,  in  no  idle  dreaming, 

Seeth  in  himself  and  in  the  flowers. 

Everywhere  about  us  are  they  glowing  — 
Some  like  stars,  to  tell  us  Spring  is  bom; 

Others,  their  blue  eyes  with  tears  overflowing, 
Stand  like  Ruth  amid  the  golden  com. 


26o  ARBOR  DAY 

Not  alone  in  Spring's  armorial  bearing, 
And  in  Summer's  green-emblazoned  field, 

But  in  arms  of  brave  old  Autumn's  wearing, 
In  the  center  of  his  brazen  shield. 

Not  alone  in  meadows  and  green  alleys, 
On  the  mountain-top,  and  by  the  brink 

Of  sequestered  pools  in  woodland  valleys, 
Where  the  slaves  of  Nature  stoop  to  drink. 

Not  alone  in  her  vast  dome  of  glory. 
Not  on  graves  of  bird  and  beast  alone, 

But  in  old  cathedrals,  high  and  hoary, 
On  the  tombs  of  heroes,  carved  in  stone; 

In  the  cottage  of  the  rudest  peasant, 
In  ancestral  homes,  whose  crumbling  towers, 

Speaking  of  the  Past  unto  the  Present, 
Tell  us  of  the  ancient  Games  of  Flowers; 

In  all  places,  then,  and  in  all  seasons, 

Flowers  expand  their  light  and  soul-like  wings. 
Teaching  us,  by  most  persuasive  reasons. 

How  akin  they  are  to  human  things. 

And  with  child-like,  credulous  affection 
We  behold  their  tender  buds  expand  — 

Emblems  of  our  own  great  resurrection. 
Emblems  of  the  bright  and  better  land. 


DAFFODILS  261 

DAFFODILS 

BY  WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH 

I  WANDERED  lonely  as  a  cloud 
That  floats  on  high  o'er  vales  and  hills, 

When  all  at  once  I  saw  a  crowd, 
A  host,  of  golden  daffodils; 

Beside  the  lake,  beneath  the  trees. 

Fluttering  and  dancing  in  the  breeze. 

Continuous  as  the  stars  that  shine 

And  twinkle  on  the  Milky  Way, 
They  stretched  in  never-ending  line 

Along  the  margin  of  a  bay: 
Ten  thousand  saw  I  at  a  glance. 
Tossing  their  heads  in  sprightly  dance. 

The  waves  beside  them  danced,  but  they 
Outdid  the  sparkling  waves  in  glee: 

A  poet  could  not  but  be  gay, 
In  such  a  jocund  company : 

I  gazed  —  and  gazed  —  but  little  thought 

What  wealth  the  show  to  me  had  brought. 

For  oft,  when  on  my  couch  I  lie 

In  vacant  or  in  pensive  mood. 
They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye 

Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude; 
And  then  my  heart  with  pleasure  fills, 
And  dances  with  the  daffodils. 


262  ARBOR  DAY 


THE  WATER-LILY* 

BY  JOHN  BANISTER  TABB 

Whence,  O  fragrant  form  of  light, 
Hast  thou  drifted  through  the  night, 
Swanhke,  to  a  leafy  nest. 
On  the  restless  waves,  at  rest? 

Art  thou  from  the  snowy  zone 
Of  a  mountain-summit  blown, 
Or  the  blossom  of  a  dream, 
Fashioned   in   the   foamy   stream? 

Nay  —  methinks  the  maiden  moon, 
When  the  daylight  came  too  soon. 
Fleeting  from  her  bath  to  hide, 
Left  her  garment  in  the  tide. 


TO  A  MOUNTAIN  DAISY 

BY  ROBERT  BURNS 

Wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flow'r, 
Thou's  met  me  in  an  evil  hour; 
For  I  maun  crush  amang  the  stoure 

Thy  slender  stem; 
To  spare  thee  now  is  past  my  pow'r, 

Thou  bonjiie  gem. 


By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  MiflSin  &  Co. 


TO  A  MOUNTAIN  DAISY  263 

Alas!  it's  no  thy  neebor  sweet, 
The  bonnie  lark,  companion  meet, 
Bending  thee  'mang  the  dewy  weet, 

Wi'  spreckled  breast! 
When  upward-springing,  blithe,  to  greet 

The  purpling  east. 

Cauld  blew  the  bitter-biting  north 
Upon  thy  early,  humble  birth; 
Yet  cheerfully  thou  glinted  forth 

Amid  the  storm. 
Scarce  rear'd  above  the  parent  earth 

Thy  tender  form. 

The  flaunting  flow'rs  our  gardens  yield. 
High  shelt'ring  woods  and  wa's  maun  shield, 
But  thou,  beneath  the  random  bield 

O'  clod  or  stane, 
Adorns  the  histie  stibble-field 

Unseen,  alane. 

There,  in  thy  scanty  mantle  clad. 
Thy  snawie  bosom  sunward  spread, 
Thou  lifts  thy  unassuming  head 

In  humble  guise; 
But  now  the  share  uptears  thy  bed, 

And  low  thou  lies! 

Such  is  the  fate  of  simple  Bard, 

On  Life's  rough  ocean  luckless  starr'd! 


264  ARBOR  DAY 

Unskilful  he  to  note  the  card 

Of  prudent  lore, 
Till  billows  rage,  and  gales  blow  hard. 

And  whelm  him  o'er! 

Such  fate  to  suffering  Worth  is  given, 
Who  long  with  wants  and  woes  has  striv'nj 
By  human  pride  or  cunning  driven 

To  misery's  brink; 
Till,  wrenched  of  ev'ry  stay  but  Heav'n, 

He,  ruin*d,  sink! 

E'en  thou  who  mourn'st  the  Daisy's  fate, 
That  fate  is  thine  —  no  distant  date; 
Stern  Ruin's  plowshare  drives,  elate, 

Full  on  thy  bloom, 
Till  crush'd  beneath  the  furrow's  weight 

Shall  be  thy  doom! 


OLD  FASHIONED  FLOWERS* 

BY  MAURICE  MAETERLINCK 

This  morning,  when  I  went  to  look  at  my  flowers, 
surrounded  by  their  white  fence,  which  protects 
them  against  the  good  cattle  grazing  in  the  field 
beyond,  I  saw  again  in  my  mind  all  that  blos- 
soms in  the  woods,  the  fields,  the  gardens,  the 
orangeries,  and  the  greenhouses,  and  I  thought  of 
*  Used  by  permission  of  M.  Maeterlinck  and  Dodd,  Mead  &  Co. 


OLD  FASHIONED  FLOWERS         265 

all  that  we  owe  to  the  world  of  marvels  which  the 
bees  visit. 

Can  we  conceive  what  humanity  would  be  if  it 
did  not  know  the  flowers  ?  If  these  did  not  exist,  if 
they  had  all  been  hidden  from  our  gaze,  as  are 
probably  a  thousand  no  less  fairy  sights  that  are  all 
around  us,  but  invisible  to  our  eyes,  would  our 
character,  our  faculties,  our  sense  of  the  beautiful, 
our  aptitude  for  happiness,  be  quite  the  same? 
We  should,  it  is  true,  in  nature  have  other  splendid 
manifestations  of  luxury,  exuberance,  and  grace; 
other  dazzling  efforts  of  the  superfluous  forces: 
the  sun,  the  stars,  the  varied  lights  of  the  moon,  the 
azure  and  the  ocean,  the  dawns  and  twilights,  the 
mountain,  the  plain,  the  forest  and  the  rivers,  the 
light  and  the  trees,  and  lastly,  nearer  to  us,  birds, 
precious  stones  and  woman.  These  are  the  orna- 
ments of  our  planet.  Yet  but  for  the  last  three, 
which  belong  to  the  same  smile  of  nature,  how  grave, 
austere,  almost  sad,  would  be  the  education  of  our 
eye  without  the  softness  which  the  flowers  give! 
Suppose  for  a  moment  that  our  globe  knew  them  not: 
a  great  region,  the  most  enchanted  in  the  joys  of 
our  psychology,  would  be  destroyed,  or  rather 
would  not  be  discovered.  All  of  a  delightful  sense 
would  sleep  for  ever  at  the  bottom  of  our  harder  and 
more  desert  hearts  and  in  our  imagination  stripped 
of  worshipful  images.  The  infinite  world  of  colors 
and   shades   would   have   been   but   incompletely 


266  ARBOR  DAY 

revealed  to  us  by  a  few  rents  in  the  sky.  The 
miraculous  harmonies  of  light  at  play,  ceaselessly 
inventing  new  gaieties,  reveling  in  itself,  would  be 
unknown  to  us;  for  the  flowers  first  broke  up  the 
prism  and  made  the  most  subtle  portion  of  our  sight. 
And  the  magic  garden  of  perfumes  —  who  would 
have  opened  its  gate  to  us?  A  few  grasses,  a  few 
gums,  a  few  fruits,  the  breath  of  the  dawn.  The 
smell  of  the  night  and  the  sea,  would  have  told  us 
that  beyond  our  eyes  and  ears  there  existed  a  shut 
paradise  where  the  air  which  we  breathe  changes  into 
delights  for  which  we  could  have  found  no  name. 
Consider  also  all  that  the  voice  of  human  happiness 
would  lack!  One  of  the  blessed  heights  of  our 
soul  would  be  almost  dumb,  if  the  flowers  had  not, 
since  centuries,  fed  with  their  beauty  the  language 
which  we  speak  and  the  thoughts  that  endeavor 
to  crystallize  the  most  precious  hours  of  life.  The 
whole  vocabulary,  all  the  impressions  of  love,  are 
impregnate  with  their  breath,  nourished  with  their 
smile.  When  we  love,  all  the  flowers  that  we  have 
seen  and  smelt  seem  to  hasten  within  us  to  people 
with  their  known  charms  the  consciousness  of  a 
sentiment  whose  happiness,  but  for  them,  would  have 
no  more  form  than  the  horizons  of  the  sea  or  sky. 
They  have  accumulated  within  us,  since  our  child- 
hood, and  even  before  it,  in  the  soul  of  our  fathers, 
an  immense  treasure,  the  nearest  to  our  joys,  upon 
which  we  draw  each  time  that  we  wish  to  make 


VIOLETS  267 

more  real  the  clement  minutes  of  our  life.  They 
have  created  and  spread  in  our  world  of  sentiment  the 
fragrant  atmosphere  in  which  love  delights. 


VIOLETS* 

BY  LUCY  LARCOM 

They  neither  toil  nor  spin; 

And  yet  their  robes  have  won 
A  splendor  never  seen  within 

The  courts  of  Solomon. 

Tints  that  the  cloud-rifts  hold, 

And  rainbow-gossamer, 
The  violet's  tender  form  enfold; 

No  queen  is  draped  like  her. 

All  heaven  and  earth  and  sea 
Have  wrought  with  subtlest  power, 

That  clothed  in  purple  she  might  be  — 
This  little  fading  flower. 

We,  who  must  toil  and  spin. 
What  clothing  shall  we  wear? 

The  glorious  raiment  we  shall  win, 
Life  shapes  us,  ever)rwhere. 

God's  inner  heaven  hath  sun, 

And  rain,  and  space  of  sky, 
Wherethrough  for  us  his  spindles  run. 

His  mighty  shuttles  fly. 


*  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Miffin  &  Co. 


268  ARBOR  DAY 

His  seamless  vesture  white 
He  wraps  our  spirits  in; 

He  weaves  his  finest  webs  of  light 
For  us,  who  toil  and  spin. 


EPIGRAM* 

BY  ROBERT  HAVEN  SCHAUFFLER 

{With  a  handful  of  Plymouth  Mayflowers) 
The    Mayflower    once    filled    this    shore 

With  seekers  after  truth  and  duty; 
And  now,  each  April,  fills  it  o*er 

With  seekers  after  hidden  beauty. 

Would  it  had   taught  the  Fathers  why 
Truth  without  beauty's  half  a  lie; 

And  would  it  might  to  us  express 

The  beauty  of  their  holiness. 


THE  DAISY'S  SONG 

(A  Fragment) 

BY  JOHN  KEATS 

The  sun,  with  his  great  eye, 
Sees  not  as  much  as  I; 
And  the  moon,  all  silver-proud. 
Might  as  well  be  in  a  cloud. 


*  By  permission  of  The  Century  Co. 


THE  RHODORA  269 

And  O  the  spring  —  the  spring! 
I  lead  the  life  of  a  king! 
Couch'd  in  the  teeming  grass, 
I  spy  each  pretty  lass. 

I  look  where  no  one  dares, 
And  I  stare  where  no  one  stares^ 
And  when  the  night  is  nigh 
Lambs  bleat  my  lullaby. 


THE  RHODORA* 
(On  Being  asked,  Whence  is  the  Flower?) 

BY  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

In  May,  when  sea-winds  pierced  our  solitudes, 
I  found  the  fresh  Rhodora  in  the  woods, 
Spreading  its  leafless  blooms  in  a  damp  nook, 
To  please  the  desert  and  the  sluggish  brook. 
The  purple  petals,  fallen  in  the  pool, 
Made  the  black  water  with  their  beauty  gay; 
Here  might  the  redbird  come,  his  plumes  to  cool, 
And  court  the  flower  that  cheapens  his  array. 
Rhodora!  if  the  sages  ask  thee  why 
This  charm  is  wasted  on  the  earth  and  sky. 
Tell    them,    dear,    that   if   eyes   were    made    for 
seeing, 


♦  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Houghton,  MiiSin  &  Co. 


270  ARBOR  DAY 

Then  Beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being:* 
Why  thou  wert  there,  O  rival  of  the  rose! 
I  never  thought  to  ask,  I  never  knew: 
But,  in  my  simple  ignorance,  suppose 
The  self-same  Power  that  brought  me  there  brought 
you. 

THE  FIRST  DANDELION 

BY  WALT  WHITMAN 

Simple   and   fresh  and   fair  from  winter's    close 

emerging, 
As  if  no  artifice  of  fashion,  business,  politics,  had 

ever  been, 
Forth  from  its  sunny  nook  of  shelter M  grass  — 

innocent,  golden,  calm  as  the  dawn. 
The  spring's  first  dandelion  shows  its  trustful  face. 


SWEET  PEAS 

BY  JOHN  KEATS 

Here  are  sweet  peas,  on  tiptoe  for  a  flight: 
With  wings  of  gentle  flush  o'er  delicate  white, 
And  taper  fingers  catching  at  all  things, 

*  Compare  the  chapter  on  "  Beauty,"  in  Emerson*s  "  Nature." 
"  This  element  (Beauty)  I  call  an  ultimate  end.  No  reason  can 
be  asked  or  given  why  the  soul  seeks  beauty.  Beauty,  in  its  largest 
and  profoundest  sense,  is  one  expression  for  the  universe.  .  .  , 
The  ancient  Greeks  called  the  world  Beauty." 


STORY  OF  THE  SUNFLOWER      271 

To  bind  them  all  about  with  tiny  rings. 

Linger  awhile  upon  some  bending  planks 

That  lean  against  a  streamlet's  rushy  banks, 

And  watch  intently  Nature's  gentle  doings: 

They  will  be  found  softer  than  ringdove's  cooings. 

How  silent  comes  the  water  round  that  bend! 

Not  the  minutest  whisper  does  it  send 

To  the  o'erhanging  sallows:  blades  of  grass 

Slowly  across  the  chequer'd  shadows  pass. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  SUNFLOWER 

ANONYMOUS 

Clytie  was  a  beautiful  water-nymph  in  love  with 
Apollo.  But,  alas!  he  did  not  love  her.  So  she 
pined  away,  sitting  all  day  on  the  cold,  hard  ground, 
with  her  unbound  tresses  streaming  over  her 
shoulders.  Nine  days  she  sat  and  tasted  neither 
food  nor  drink,  her  own  tears  and  the  chilly  dew 
her  only  food.  She  gazed  on  the  sun  when  he 
rose,  and  as  he  passed  through  his  daily  course 
to  his  setting,  she  saw  no  other  object,  her  face 
turned  constantly  to  him.  At  last,  they  say,  her 
limbs  rooted  to  the  ground,  her  face  became  a 
sunflower,  which  turns  on  its  stem  so  as  always 
to  face  the  sun  throughout  its  daily  course;  for 
it  retains  to  that  extent  the  feeling  of  the  nymph 
from  whom  it  sprang. 


272  ARBOR  DAY 

FLOWERS 

BY  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

O  Proserpina, 
For  the  flowers  now,  that  frighted,  thou  let'st  fall 
From  Dis's  wagon!  daffodils, 
That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty;    violets  dim, 
But  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes, 
Or  Cytherea's  breath;   pale  primroses, 
That  die  unmarried,  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  Phoebus  in  his  strength,  a  malady 
Most  incident  to  maids;  bold  ox-lips,  and 
The  crown-imperial;  lilies  of  all  kinds. 
The  flower-de-luce  being  one!    O,  these  I  lack, 
To  make  you  garlands  of;  and  my  sweet  friend, 
To  strew  him  o'er  and  o'er! 


A  PITCHER  OF  MIGNONETTE 

BY  HENRY  CUYLER  BUNNER 

A  PITCHER  of  mignonette 

In  a  tenement's  highest  casement  — 
Queer  sort  of  flower-pot  —  yet 
That  pitcher  of  mignonette 
Is  a  garden  in  heaven  set, 

To  the  little  sick  child  in  the  basement 
The  pitcher  of  mignonette. 

In  the  tenement's  highest  casement. 


WILD  FLOWERS  273 

WILD  FLOWERS 

BY  RICHARD  JEFFERIES 

From  The  Open  Air 
A  FIR  tree  is  not  a  flower,  and  yet  it  is  associated  in 
my  mind  with  primroses.  There  was  a  narrow  lane 
leading  into  a  wood,  where  I  used  to  go  almost  every 
day  in  the  early  months  of  the  year,  and  at  one 
corner  it  was  overlooked  by  three  spruce  firs.  The 
rugged  lane  there  began  to  ascend  the  hill,  and  I 
paused  a  moment  to  look  back.  Immediately  the 
high  fir  trees  guided  the  eye  upwards,  and  from  their 
tops  to  the  deep  azure  of  the  March  sky  over,  but  a 
step  from  the  tree  to  the  heavens.  So  it  has  ever 
been  to  me,  by  day  or  by  night,  summer  or  winter; 
beneath  trees  the  heart  feels  nearer  to  that  depth  of 
life  the  far  sky  means.  The  rest  of  spirit  found  only 
in  beauty,  ideal  and  pure,  comes  there  because  the 
distance  seems  within  touch  of  thought.  To  the 
heaven  thought  can  reach  lifted  by  the  strong  arms 
of  the  oak,  carried  up  by  the  ascent  of  the  flame- 
shaped  fir.  Round  the  spruce  top  the  blue  was 
deepened,  concentrated  by  the  fixed  point,  the  mem- 
ory of  that  spot,  as  it  were,  of  the  sky  is  still  fresh  — 
I  can  see  it  distinctly  —  still  beautiful  and  full  of 
meaning.  It  is  painted  in  bright  color  in  my  mind, 
color  thrice  laid,  and  indelible;  as  one  passes  a 
shrine  and  bows  the  head  to  the  Madonna,  so  I 


274  ARBOR  DAY 

recall  the  picture  and  stoop  in  spirit  to  the  aspiration 
it  yet  arouses.     For  there  is  no  saint  like  the  sky, 
sunlight  shining  from  its  face. 

•         ••••••• 

Before  I  had  any  conscious  thought  it  was  a 
delight  to  me  to  find  wild  flowers,  just  to  see  them. 
It  was  a  pleasure  to  gather  them  and  to  take  them 
home;  a  pleasure  to  show  them  to  others  —  to 
keep  them  as  long  as  they  would  live,  to  decorate  the 
room  with  them,  to  arrange  them  carelessly  with 
grasses,  green  sprays,  tree-bloom  —  large  branches 
of  chestnut  snapped  off,  and  set  by  a  picture  per- 
haps. Without  conscious  thought  of  seasons  and  the 
advancing  hours  to  light  on  the  white  wild  violet, 
the  meadow  orchis,  the  blue  veronica,  the  blue 
meadow  cranesbill;  feeling  the  warmth  and  delight  of 
the  increasing  sun-rays,  but  not  recognizing  whence 
or  why  it  was  joy.  All  the  world  is  young  to  a  boy, 
and  thought  has  not  entered  into  it;  even  the  old 
men  with  gray  hair  do  not  seem  old;  different  but 
not  aged,  the  idea  of  age  has  not  been  mastered. 
A  boy  has  to  frown  and  study,  and  then  does  not 
grasp  what  long  years  mean.  The  various  hues  of 
the  petals  pleased  without  any  knowledge  of  color- 
contrasts,  no  note  even  of  color  except  that  it  was 
bright,  and  the  mind  was  made  happy  without  con- 
sideration of  those  ideals  and  hopes  afterwards 
associated  with  the  azure  sky  above  the  fir  trees, 
A  fresh  footpath,  a  fresh  flower,  a  fresh  delight. 


WILD  FLOWERS  275 

The  reeds,  the  grasses,  the  rushes  —  unknown 
and  new  things  at  every  step  —  something  always  to 
find;  no  barren  spot  anywhere,  or  sameness.  Every 
day  the  grass  painted  anew,  and  its  green  seen  for  the 
first  time;  not  the  old  green,  but  a  novel  hue  and 
spectacle,  like  the  first  view  of  the  sea. 

If  we  had  never  before  looked  upon  the  earth,  but 
suddenly  came  to  it  man  or  woman  grown,  set  down 
in  the  midst  of  a  summer  mead,  would  it  not  seem 
to  us  a  radiant  vision?  The  hues,  the  shapes,  the 
song  and  life  of  birds,  above  all  the  sunlight,  the 
breath  of  heaven,  resting  on  it;  the  mind  would  be 
filled  with  its  glory,  unable  to  grasp  it,  hardly  believ- 
ing that  such  things  could  be  mere  matter  and  no 
more.  Like  a  dream  of  some  spirit-land  it  would 
appear,  scarce  fit  to  be  touched  lest  it  should  fall  to 
pieces,  too  beautiful  to  be  long  watched  lest  it  should 
fade  away.  So  it  seemed  to  me  as  a  boy,  sweet  and 
new  like  this  each  morning;  and  even  now,  after 
the  years  that  have  passed,  and  the  lines  they  have 
worn  in  the  forehead,  the  summer  mead  shines  as 
bright  and  fresh  as  when  my  foot  first  touched  the 
grass.  It  has  another  meaning  now;  the  sunshine 
and  the  flowers  speak  differently,  for  a  heart  that 
has  once  known  sorrow  reads  behind  the  page,  and 
sees  sadness  in  joy.  But  the  freshness  is  still  there, 
the  dew  washes  the  colors  before  dawn.  Uncon- 
scious happiness  in  finding  wild  flowers  —  uncon- 
scious and  unquestioning,  and  therefore  unbounded. 


276  ARBOR  DAY 

TO  THE  DANDELION 

{Extract) 

BY  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL 

Dear  common  flower,  that  grow'st  beside  the  way, 
Fringing  the  dusty  road  with  harmless  gold. 

First  pledge  of  blithesome  May, 

Which  children  pluck,  and,  full  of  pride  uphold. 

High-hearted  buccaneers,  overjoyed  that  they 
An  Eldorado  in  the  grass  have  found. 
Which  not  the  rich  earth's  ample  round 

May  match  in  wealth,  thou  art  more  dear  to  me 

Than  all  the  prouder  summer-blooms  may  be. 


THE  DANDELIONS 

BY  HELEN  GRAY  CONE 

Upon  a  showery  night  and  still, 

Without  a  sound  of  warning, 
A  trooper  band  surprised  the  hill, 

And  held  it  in  the  morning. 
We  were  not  waked  by  bugle-notes, 

No  cheer  our  dreams  invaded, 
And  yet,  at  dawn,  their  yellow  coats 

On  the  green  slopes  paraded. 

We  careless  folk  the  deed  forgot; 
Till  one  day,  idly  walking, 


TO  A  WIND  FLOWER  277 

We  marked  upon  the  self-same  spot 

A  crowd  of  veterans  talking. 
They  shook  their  trembling  heads  and  gray 

With  pride  and  noiseless  laughter; 
When,  well-a-day!  they  blew  away, 

And  ne'er  were  heard  of  after! 


TO  A  WIND  FLOWER 

BY  MADISON  CAWEIN 

Teach  me  the  secret  of  thy  loveliness. 
That,  being  made  wise,  I  may  aspire  to  be 

As  beautiful  in  thought,  and  so  express 
Immortal  truths  to  earth's  mortality; 

Though  to  my  soul  ability  be  less 
Than  'tis  to  thee,  O  sweet  anemone. 

Teach  me  the  secret  of  thy  innocence, 

That  in  simplicity  I  may  grow  wise. 
Asking  from  Art  no  other  recompense 

Than  the  approval  of  her  own  just  eyes; 
So  may  I  rise  to  some  fair  eminence, 

Though  less  than  thine,  O  cousin  of  the  skies. 

Teach  me  these  things,  through  whose  high  knowl- 
edge, I  — 
When  Death  hath  poured  oblivion  through  my 
veins. 


278  ARBOR  DAY 

And  brought  me  home,  as  all  are  brought,  to  lie 
In  that  vast  house,  common  to  serfs  and  Thanes  — 

I  shall  not  die,  I  shall  not  utterly  die, 
For  beauty  bom  of  beauty  —  that  remains. 


TO  A  WITHERED  ROSE 

BY  JOHN  KENDRICK  BANGS 

Thy  span  of  life  was  all  too  short  — 

A  week  or  two  at  best  — 
From  budding-time,  through  blossoming, 

To  withering  and  rest. 

Yet  compensation  hast  thou  —  aye  — 

For  all  thy  little  woes; 
For  was  it  not  thy  happy  lot 

To  live  and  die  a  rose? 


MARIGOLDS 

BY  JOHN  KEATS 

Open  afresh  your  round  of  starry  folds, 

Ye  ardent  marigolds! 

Dry  up  the  moisture  of  your  golden  lids, 

For  great  Appollo  bids 

That  in  these  days  your  praises  shall  be  sung 


A  SPRAY    OF  APPLE   BLOSSOMS    279 

On  many  harps,  which  he  has  lately  strung; 
And  then  again  your  dewiness  he  kisses  — 
Tell  him  I  have  you  in  my  world  of  blisses: 
So  haply  when  I  rove  in  some  far  vale, 
His  mighty  voice  may  come  upon  the  gale. 


A  HOLLYHOCK 

BY  FRANK  DEMPSTER  SHERMAN 

Seraglio  of  the  Sultan  Bee! 

I  listen  at  the  waxen  door. 
And  hear  the  zithern's  melody 

And  sound  of  dancing  on  the  floor. 


WITH  A  SPRAY  OF  APPLE  BLOSSOMS 

BY  WALTER  LEARNED 

The  promise  of  these  fragrant  flowers, 
The  fruit  that  ^neath  these  blossoms  lies 

Once  hung,  they  say,  in  Eden's  bowers, 
And  tempted  Eve  in  Paradise. 

O  fairest  daughter  of  Eve's  blood. 
Lest  her  misprision  thine  should  be, 

I've  nipped  temptation  in  the  bud 
And  send  this  snowy  spray  to  thee. 


28o  ARBOR  DAY 

FOUR-LEAF  CLOVER 

BY  ELLA  HIGGINSON 

I  KNOW  a  place  where  the  sun  is  like  gold, 
And  the  cherry  blooms  burst  with  snow, 

And  down  underneath  is  the  loveliest  nook, 
Where  the  four-leaf  clovers  grow. 

One  leaf  is  for  hope,  and  one  is  for  faith, 

And  one  is  for  love,  you  know, 
And  God  put  another  one  in  for  luck  — 

If  you  search  you  will  find  where  they  grow. 

But  you  must  have  hope,  and  you  must  have  faith. 
You  must  love  and  be  strong  —  and  so  — 

If  you  work,  if  you  wait,  you  will  find  the  place 
Where  the  four-leaf  clovers  grow. 


THE  GRASS 

BY  EMILY  DICKINSON 

The  grass  so  little  has  to  do  — 
A  spear  of  simple  green. 

With  only  butterflies  to  brood, 
And  bees  to  entertain. 

And  stir  all  day  to  pretty  tunes 
The  breezes  fetch  along, 


GREEN  THINGS  GROWING         281 

And  hold  the  sunshine  in  its  lap, 
And  bow  to  everything; 

And  thread  the  dews  all  night,  like  pearls, 

And  make  itself  so  fine  — 
A  duchess  were  too  common 

For  such  a  noticing. 

And  even  when  it  dies,  to  pass 

In  odors  so  divine  — 
As  lowly  spices  gone  to  sleep, 

Or  amulets  of  pine. 

And  then  to  dwell  in  sovereign  bams. 

And  dream  the  days  away  — 
The  grass  so  little  has  to  do, 

I  wish  I  were  the  hay! 


GREEN  THINGS  GROWING 

BY  DINAH  MARIA  MULOCK 

Oh,  the  green  things  growing,  the  green  things 

growmg. 
The  faint  sweet  smell  of  the  green  things  growing! 
I  should  like  to  live,  whether  I  smile  or  grieve, 
Just  to  watch  the  happy  life  of  my  green  things 

growing. 

Oh,  the  fluttering  and  the  pattering  of  those  green 
things  growing! 


282  ARBOR   DAY 

How  they  talk  each  to  each,  when  none  of  us  are 

knowing; 
In  the  wonderful  white  of  the  weird  moonlight, 
Or  the  dim  dreamy  dawn  when  the  cocks  are  crowing. 

I  love,  I  love  them  so  —  my  green  things  growing! 
And  I  think  that  they  love  me,  without  false  showing; 
For  by  many  a  tender  touch,  they  comfort  me  so 

much, 
With  the  soft  mute  comfort  of  green  things  growing. 


VII 
CONSERVATION 


DECLARATION  OF  PRINCIPLES 

BY    THE    CONFERENCE    ON    THE    CONSERVATION   OF 
NATURAL  RESOURCES,    WHITE    HOUSE,  MAY  13,   1908 

We,  THE  governors  of  the  states  and  territories 
of  the  United  States  of  America  in  conference  assem- 
bled, do  hereby  declare  the  conviction  that  the  great 
prosperity  of  our  country  rests  upon  the  abundant 
resources  of  the  land  chosen  by  our  forefathers  for 
their  homes,  and  where  they  laid  the  foundation  of 
this  great  nation. 

We  look  upon  these  resources  as  a  heritage  to  be 
made  use  of  in  establishing  and  promoting  the  com- 
fort, prosperity,  and  happiness  of  the  American 
people,  but  not  to  be  wasted,  deteriorated,  or 
needlessly  destroyed. 

We  agree  that  our  country's  future  is  involved  in 
this;  that  the  great  natural  resources  supply  the 
material  basis  upon  which  our  civilization  must  con- 
tinue to  depend,  and  upon  which  the  perpetuity  of 
the  nation  itself  rests. 

We  agree,  in  the  light  of  the  facts  brought  to  our 
knowledge  and  from  information  received  from 
sources  which  we  cannot  doubt,  that  this  material 
basis  is  threatened  with  exhaustion.  Even  as  each 
succeeding  generation  from  the  birth  of  the  nation 

28s 


286  ARBOR  DAY 

has  performed  its  part  in  promoting  the  progress  and 
development  of  the  Republic,  so  do  we  in  this  genera- 
tion recognize  it  as  a  high  duty  to  perform  our  part; 
and  this  duty  in  large  degree  lies  in  the  adoption  of 
measures  for  the  conservation  of  the  natural  wealth 
of  the  country. 

We  declare  our  firm  conviction  that  this  conserva- 
tion of  our  natural  resources  is  a  subject  of  trans- 
cendent importance  which  should  engage  unremit- 
tingly the  attention  of  the  nation,  the  states,  and  the 
people  in  earnest  cooperation.  These  natural 
resources  include  the  land  on  which  we  live  and  which 
yields  our  food;  the  living  waters  which  fertiHze 
the  soil,  supply  power,  and  form  great  avenues  of 
commerce;  the  forests  which  yield  the  materials 
for  our  homes,  prevent  erosion  of  the  soil,  and 
conserve  the  navigation  and  other  uses  of  the 
streams;  and  the  minerals  which  form  the  basis 
of  our  industrial  life,  and  supply  us  with  heat,  light, 
and  power. 

We  agree  that  the  land  should  be  so  used  that 
erosion  and  soil  wash  shall  cease;  and  that  there 
should  be  reclamation  of  arid  and  semi-arid  regions 
by  means  of  irrigation,  and  of  swamp  and  overflowed 
regions  by  means  of  drainage;  that  the  waters  should 
be  so  conserved  and  used  as  to  promote  navigation, 
to  enable  the  arid  regions  to  be  reclaimed  by  irriga- 
tion, and  to  develop  power  in  the  interests  of  the 
people;    that  the  forests  which  regulate  our  rivers. 


DECLARATION  OF  PRINCIPLES     287 

support  our  industries,  and  promote  the  fertility 
and  productiveness  of  the  soil  should  be  preserved 
and  perpetuated;  that  the  minerals  found  so  abun- 
dantly beneath  the  surface  should  be  so  used  as  to 
prolong  their  utility;  that  the  beauty,  healthfulness, 
and  habitability  of  our  country  should  be  preserved 
and  increased;  that  sources  of  national  wealth  exist 
for  the  benefit  of  the  people, 'and  that  monopoly 
thereof  should  not  be  tolerated. 

We  commend  the  wise  forethought  of  the  President 
in  sounding  the  note  of  warning  as  to  the  waste  and 
exhaustion  of  the  natural  resources  of  the  country, 
and  signify  our  high  appreciation  of  his  action  in 
calling  this  Conference  to  consider  the  same  and  to 
seek  remedies  therefor  through  cooperation  of  the 
nation  and  the  states. 

We  agree  that  this  cooperation  should  find 
expression  in  suitable  action  by  the  Congress 
within  the  limits  of  and  coextensive  with  the 
national  jurisdiction  of  the  subject,  and,  comple- 
mentary thereto,  by  the  legislatures  of  the  several 
states  within  the  limits  of  and  coextensive  with 
their  jurisdiction. 

We  declare  the  conviction  that  in  the  use  of  the 
national  resources  our  independent  states  are  inter- 
dependent and  bound  together  by  ties  of  mutual 
benefits,  responsibilities,  and  duties. 

We  agree  in  the  wisdom  of  future  conferences 
between  the  President,  members  of  Congress,  and 


288  ARBOR  DAY 

the  governors  of  states  on  the  conservation  of  our 
natural  resources  with  a  view  of  continued  coopera- 
tion and  action  on  the  lines  suggested;  and  to  this 
end  we  advise  that  from  time  to  time,  as  in  his  judg- 
ment may  seem  wise,  the  President  call  the  governors 
of  states  and  members  of  Congress  and  others  into 
conference. 

We  agree  that  further  action  is  advisable  to  ascer- 
tain the  present  condition  of  our  natural  resources 
and  to  promote  the  conservation  of  the  same ;  and  to 
that  end  we  recommend  the  appointment  by  each 
state  of  a  commission  on  the  conservation  of 
natural  resources,  to  cooperate  with  each  other 
and  with  any  similar  commission  of  the  Federal 
Govertiment. 

We  urge  the  continuation  and  extension  of  forest 
policies  adapted  to  secure  the  husbanding  and 
renewal  of  our  diminishing  timber  supply,  the  pre- 
vention of  soil  erosion,  the  protection  of  headwaters, 
and  the  maintenance  of  the  purity  and  navigability 
of  our  streams.  We  recognize  that  the  private 
ownership  of  forest  lands  entails  responsibilities  in 
the  interests  of  all  the  people,  and  we  favor  the 
enactment  of  laws  looking  to  the  protection  and 
replacement  of  privately  owned  forests. 

We  recognize  in  our  waters  a  most  valuable  asset 
of  the  people  of  the  United  States,  and  we  recom- 
mend the  enactment  of  laws  looking  to  the  conserva- 
tion of  water  resources  for  irrigation,  water  supply, 


THOUGHTS  ON  CONSERVATION    289 

power,  and  navigation,  to  the  end  that  navigable  and 
source  streams  may  be  brought  under  complete  con- 
trol and  fully  utilized  for  every  purpose.  We  especi- 
ally urge  on  the  Federal  Congress  the  immediate 
adoption  of  a  wise,  active,  and  thorough  water- 
way policy,  providing  for  the  prompt  improvement 
of  our  streams  and  the  conservation  of  their  water- 
sheds required  for  the  uses  of  commerce  and  the 
protection  of  the  interests  of  our  people. 

We  recommend  the  enactment  of  laws  looking  to 
the  prevention  of  waste  in  the  mining  and  extraction 
of  coal,  oil,  gas,  and  other  minerals  with  a  view 
to  their  wise  conservation  for  the  use  of  the 
people,  and  to  the  protection  of  human  life  in 
the  mines. 

Let  us  conserve  the  foundations  of  our  prosperity. 


THOUGHTS  ON  CONSERVATION 

BY  WILLIAM  H.  TAFT 

Without  the  resources  which  make  labor  pro- 
ductive, American  enterprise,  energy,  and  skill 
would  not  in  the  past  have  been  able  to  make  head- 
way against  hard  conditions.  Our  children  and 
their  children  will  not  be  able  to  make  headway  if 
we  leave  to  them  an  impoverished  country.  Our 
land,  our  waters,  our  forests,  and  our  minerals  are 
the  sources  from  which  come  directly  or  indirectly 


596  ARBOR  DAY 

the  livelihood  of  all  of  us.  The  conservation  of  our 
natural  resources  is  a  question  of  fundamental  impor- 
tance to  the  United  States  now. 

BY  WILLIAM  JENNINGS  BRYAN 

.  .  .  It  should  be  our  purpose,  not  only  to 
preserve  the  nation's  resources  for  future  generations 
by  reducing  waste  to  a  minimum  .  .  .  we  should 
see  to  it  that  a  few  of  the  people  do  not  monopolize 
that  which  in  equity  is  the  property  of  all  the  people. 
The  earth  belongs  to  each  generation,  and  it  is  as 
criminal  to  fetter  future  generations  with  perpetual 
franchises,  making  the  multitude  servants  to  a 
favored  faction  of  the  population,  as  it  would  be  to 
impair,  unnecessarily,  the  common  store. 

Money  spent  in  care  for  the  life  and  health  of  the 
people,  in  protecting  the  soil  from  erosion  and  from 
exhaustion,  in  preventing  waste  in  the  use  of  minerals 
of  limited  supply,  in  the  reclamation  of  deserts  and 
swamps,  and  in  the  preservation  of  forests  still 
remaining  and  the  planting  of  denuded  tracts  — 
money  invested  in  these  and  in  the  development  of 
waterways  and  in  the  deepening  of  harbors  is  an 
investment  yielding  an  annual  return.  If  any  of 
these  expenditures  fail  to  bring  a  return  at  once  the 
money  expended  is  like  a  bequest  to  those  who  come 
after  us.  And  as  the  parent  lives  for  his  child  as  well 
as  for  himself,  so  the  good  citizen  provides  for  the 


THOUGHTS  ON  CONSERVATION    i^gi 

future  as  well  as  for  the  present.  This  gathering 
will  be  remembered  by  future  generations,  because 
they  as  well  as  ourselves  will  be  the  recipients  of  the 
benefits  which  will  flow  from  this  conference.  We 
have  all  been  strengthened  by  communion  together; 
our  vision  has  been  enlarged  and  the  enthusiasm 
here  aroused  will  permeate  every  state  and  every 
community. 

BY  JAMES  J.  HILL 

"Of  all  the  sinful  wasters  of  man's  inheritance  on 
earth,"  said  the  late  Professor  Shaler,  "and  all  are 
in  this  regard  sinners,  the  very  worst  are  the  people 
of  America."  This  is  not  a  popular  phrase,  but  a 
scientific  judgment.  It  is  borne  out  by  facts.  In 
the  movement  of  modern  times,  which  has  made 
the  world  commercially  a  small  place  and  has  pro- 
duced a  solidarity  of  the  race  such  as  never  before 
existed,  we  have  come  to  the  point  where  we  must 
to  a  certain  extent  regard  the  natural  resources  of 
this  planet  as  a  common  asset,  compare  them  with 
demands  now  made  and  likely  to  be  made  upon  them, 
and  study  their  judicious  use. 

Not  only  the  economic  but  the  political  future  is 
involved.  No  people  ever  felt  the  want  of  work  or 
the  pinch  of  poverty  for  a  long  time  without  reach- 
ing out  violent  hands  against  their  political  institu- 
tions, believing  that  they  might  find  in  a  change  some 


292  ARBOR  DAY 

relief  from  their  distress.  .  .  .  Every  nation 
finds  its  hour  of  peril  when  there  is  no  longer  free 
access  to  the  land,  or  when  the  land  will  no  longer 
support  the  people. 

BY  JAMES  S.  WHIPPLE, 

State  Forest,  Fish  and  Game  Commissioner  of 
New  York. 

The  most  imperative  thing  that  we  have  to  do 
in  America  to-day  is  to  save  the  forests  of  the 
country. 


A  FEW  STATISTICS 

BY  TREADWELL  CLEVELAND,  JR. 

From  A  Primer  of  Conservation,  1908 
We  are  now  cutting  timber  from  the  forests  of  the 
United  States  at  the  rate  of  500  feet  B.  M.  a  year  for 
every  man,  woman,  and  child.  In  Europe  they 
use  only  60  board  feet.  At  this  rate,  in  less  than 
thirty  years  all  our  remaining  virgin  timber  will  be 
cut.  Meantime,  the  forests  which  have  been  cut 
over  are  generally  in  a  bad  way  for  want  of  care; 
they  will  produce  only  inferior  second  growth.  We 
are  clearly  over  the  verge  of  a  timber  famine. 

This  is  not  due  to  necessity,  for  the  forests  are  one 
of  the  renewable  resources.  Rightly  used,  they  go 
on  producing  crop  after  crop  indefinitely.  The 
countries  of  Europe  know  this,  and  Japan  knows  it ; 


A  FEW  STATISTICS  293 

and  their  forests  are  becoming  with  time  not  less,  but 
more,  productive.  We  probably  still  possess  suf- 
ficient forest  land  to  grow  wood  enough  at  home  to 
supply  our  own  needs.  If  we  are  not  blind,  or  wil- 
fully wasteful,  we  may  yet  preserve  our  forest 
independence  and,  with  it,  the  fourth  of  our  great 
industries. 

Present  wastes  in  lumber  production  are  enor- 
mous. Take  the  case  of  yellow  pine,  which  now 
heads  the  list  in  the  volume  of  annual  cut.  In  1907 
it  is  estimated  that  only  one-half  of  all  the  yellow 
pine  cut  during  the  season  was  used,  and  that  the 
other  half,  amounting  to  8,000,000  cords,  was  wasted. 
Such  waste  is  typical.  Mr.  R.  A.  Long,  in  his 
address  on  "Forest  Conservation"  at  the  Conference 
on  the  Conservation  of  Natural  Resources,  pointed 
out  that  20  per  cent,  of  the  yellow  pine  was  simply 
left  in  the  woods  —  a  waste  which  represents  the 
timber  growing  on  300,000  acres. 

The  rest  of  the  waste  takes  place  at  the  mill.  Of 
course,  it  would  never  do  to  speak  of  the  material 
rejected  at  the  mill  as  waste  unless  this  material  could 
be  turned  to  use  by  some  better  and  more  thorough 
form  of  utilization.  But  in  many  cases  we  know, 
and  in  many  other  cases  we  have  excellent  reason  to 
believe,  that  most,  if  not  all,  of  this  material  could 
be  used  with  profit.  It  is  simply  a  question  of  intel- 
ligent investigation  and,  more  than  all,  of  having 
the  will  to  economize. 


294  ARBOR  DAY 

Put  there  are  other  ways  to  conserve  the  forests 
besides  cutting  in  half  the  present  waste  of  forest 
products.  The  forests  can  be  made  to  produce  three 
or  four  times  as  rapidly  as  they  do  at  present.  This 
is  true  of  both  the  virgin  forests  and  the  cut-over 
lands.  Virgin  forests  are  often  fully  stocked  with 
first-class  timber,  but  this  stock  has  been  laid  in  very 
slowly,  on  account  of  the  wasteful  competition  which 
is  carried  on  constantly  between  the  rival  trees. 
Then,  too,  in  the  virgin  forest  there  are  very  many 
trees  which  have  reached  maturity  and  stopped 
growing,  and  these  occupy  space  which,  if  held  by 
younger  trees,  would  be  laying  in  a  new  stock  con- 
stantly. As  regards  the  cut-over  land,  severe  cutting, 
followed  by  fire,  has  checked  growth  so  seriously  that 
in  most  cases  reproduction  is  both  poor  and  slow, 
while  in  many  other  cases  there  is  no  true  forest 
reproduction  at  all  at  present,  and  there  is  but  little 
hope  for  the  future. 

In  addressing  the  Conference  of  Governors,  the 
Hon.  William  Jennings  Bryan  said: 

"No  subject  has  been  brought  out  more  promi- 
nently at  this  Conference  than  the  subject  of  forestry, 
and  it  justifies  the  time  devoted  to  it,  for  our  timber- 
lands  touch  our  national  interests  at  several  points. 
Our  use  of  lumber  is  enormous,  but  immense  as 
would  be  the  inconvenience  and  loss  caused  by  the 
absence  of  lumber,  the  consequence  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  our  forests  would  be  still  more  disastrous  to 


RELATIONS  OF  TREES  TO  WATER     295 

the  nation.  As  has  been  shown,  the  timber  on  our 
mountain  ranges  protects  our  water  supply.  Not 
to  speak  of  changes  in  climate  which  might  follow 
the  denuding  of  our  mountains,  the  loss  to  the 
irrigated  country  could  not  be  remedied  and  the 
damage  to  the  streams  could  not  be  calculated." 


RELATIONS  OF  TREES  TO  WATER 

BY  WILSON  FLAGG 

From  A  Year  Among  the  Trees 
There  is  a  spot  which  I  used  to  visit  some  years 
ago,  that  seemed  to  me  one  of  the  most  enchanting 
of  natural  scenes.  It  was  a  level  plain  of  about  ten 
acres,  surrounded  by  a  narrow  stream  that  was  fed 
by  a  steep  ridge  forming  a  sort  of  amphitheatre 
round  more  than  half  its  circumference.  The  ridge 
was  a  declivity  of  near  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  and 
so  steep  that  you  could  climb  it  only  by  taking  hold 
of  the  trees  and  bushes  that  covered  it.  The  whole 
surface  consisted  of  a  thin  stratum  of  soil  deposited 
upon  a  slaty  rock ;  but  the  growth  of  trees  upon  this 
slope  was  beautiful  and  immense,  and  the  water  that 
was  constantly  trickling  from  a  thousand  fountains 
kept  the  ground  all  the  year  green  with  mosses  and 
ferns,  and  gay  with  many  varieties  of  flowers.  The 
soil  was  so  rich  in  the  meadow  enclosed  by  this  ridge, 
and  annually  fertilized  by  the  debris  washed  from  the 


296  ARBOR  DAY 

hills,  that  the  proprietor  every  summer  filled  his 
barns  with  hay,  which  was  obtained  from  it  without 
any  cultivation. 

I  revisited  this  spot  a  few  years  since,  after  a  long 
period  of  absence.  A  new  owner,  "  a  man  of  prog- 
ress and  enterprise,"  had  felled  the  trees  that  grew 
so  beautifully  on  the  steep  sides  of  this  elevation,  and 
valley  and  hill  have  become  a  dreary  and  unprofitable 
waste.  The  thin  soil  that  sustained  the  forest,  no 
longer  protected  by  the  trees  and  their  under- 
growth, has  been  washed  down  into  the  valley,  leav- 
ing nothing  but  a  bald,  rocky  surface,  whose  hideous- 
ness  is  scarcely  relieved  by  a  few  straggling  vines. 
The  valley  is  also  ruined;  for  the  inundations  to 
which  it  is  subject  after  any  copious  rain  destroy 
every  crop  that  is  planted  upon  it,  and  render  it 
impracticable  for  tillage.  It  is  covered  with  sand 
heaps;  the  little  stream  that  glided  round  it,  fringed 
with  azaleas  and  wild  roses,  has  disappeared,  and 
the  land  is  reduced  to  a  barren  pasture. 

The  general  practice  of  the  pioneers  of  civilization 
on  this  continent  was  to  cut  down  the  wood  chiefly 
from  the  uplands  and  the  lower  slopes  of  the  hills 
and  mountains.  They  cleared  those  tracts  which 
were  most  valuable  for  immediate  use  and  cultiva- 
tion. Necessity  led  them  to  pursue  the  very  course 
required  by  the  laws  of  nature  for  improving  the  soil 
and  climate.  The  first  clearings  were  made  chiefly 
for  purposes  of  agriculture;  and  as  every  farm  was 


RELATIONS    OF   TREES   TO    WATER  297 

surrounded  by  a  rampart  of  woods,  it  was  sheltered 
from  the  force  of  the  winds  and  pleasantly  open  to 
the  sun.  But  when  men  began  to  fell  the  woods  to 
supply  the  demands  of  towns  and  cities  for  fuel  and 
lumber,  these  clearings  were  gradually  deprived  of 
their  shelter,  by  levelling  the  surrounding  forest 
and  opening  the  country  to  the  winds  from  every 
quarter.  But  the  clearing  of  the  wood  from  the 
plains,  while  it  has  rendered  the  climate  more 
unstable,  has  not  been  the  cause  of  inundations  or 
the  diminution  of  streams.  This  evil  has  been  pro- 
duced by  clearing  the  mountains  and  lesser  elevations 
having  steep  or  rocky  sides;  and  if  this  destructive 
work  is  not  checked  by  legislation  or  by  the  wisdom 
of  the  people,  plains  and  valleys  now  green  and  fertile 
will  become  profitless  for  tillage  or  pasture,  and  the 
advantages  we  shall  have  sacrificed  will  be  irre- 
trievable in  the  lifetime  of  a  single  generation.  The 
same  indiscriminate  felling  of  woods  has  rendered 
many  a  once  fertile  region  in  Europe  barren  and 
uninhabitable,  equally  among  the  cold  mountains 
of  Norway  and  the  sunny  plains  of  Brittany. 

Our  climate  suffers  more  than  formerly  from 
summer  droughts.  Many  ancient  streams  have 
entirely  disappeared,  and  a  still  greater  number  are 
dry  in  summer.  Boussingault  mentions  a  fact  that 
clearly  illustrates  the  condition  to  which  we  may  be 
exposed  in  thousands  of  locations  on  this  continent. 
In  the  Island  of  Ascension  there  was  a  beautiful 


298  ARBOR  DAY 

spring,  situated  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain  which  was 
covered  with  wood.  By  degrees  the  spring  became 
less  copious,  and  at  length  failed.  While  its  waters 
were  annually  diminishing  in  bulk,  the  mountain 
had  been  gradually  cleared  of  its  forest.  The  disap- 
pearance of  the  spring  was  attributed  to  the  clearing. 
The  mountain  was  again  planted,  and  as  the  new 
growth  of  wood  increased,  the  spring  reappeared, 
and  finally  attained  its  original  fulness.  More  to 
be  dreaded  than  drought,  and  produced  by  the  same 
cause  —  the  clearing  of  steep  declivities  of  their 
wood  —  are  the  excessive  inundations  to  which  all 
parts  of  the  country  are  subject. 

It  it  were  in  the  power  of  man  to  dispose  his  woods 
and  tillage  in  the  most  advantageous  manner,  he 
might  not  only  produce  an  important  amelioration 
of  the  general  climate,  but  he  might  diminish  the 
frequency  and  severity  both  of  droughts  and 
inundations,  and  preserve  the  general  fulness  of 
streams.  If  every  man  were  to  pursue  that  course 
which  would  protect  his  own  grounds  from  these 
evils,  it  would  be  sufficient  to  bring  about  this  bene- 
ficent result.  If  each  owner  of  land  would  keep  all 
his  hills  and  declivities,  and  all  slopes  that  contain 
only  a  thin  deposit  of  soil  or  a  quarry,  covered  with 
forest,  he  would  lessen  his  local  inundations  from 
vernal  thaws  and  summer  rains.  Such  a  covering 
of  wood  tends  to  equalize  the  moisture  that  is  dis- 
tributed over  the  land,  causing  it,  when  showered 


RELATIONS    OF   TREES   TO   WATER  299 

upon  the  hills,  to  be  retained  by  the  mechanical 
action  of  the  trees  and  their  undergrowth  of  shrubs 
and  herbaceous  plants,  and  by  the  spongy  surface 
of  the  soil  underneath  them,  made  porous  by  mosses, 
decayed  leaves,  and  other  debris,  so  that  the  plains 
and  valleys  have  a  moderate  oozing  supply  of  mois- 
ture for  a  long  time  after  every  shower.  Without 
this  covering,  the  water  when  precipitated  upon  the 
slopes,  would  immediately  rush  down  over  an  unpro- 
tected surface  in  torrents  upon  the  space  below. 

Every  one  has  witnessed  the  effects  of  clearing  the 
woods  and  other  vegetation  from  moderate  declivities 
in  his  own  neighborhood.  He  has  observed  how 
rapidly  a  valley  is  inundated  by  heavy  showers,  if  the 
rising  grounds  that  form  its  basin  are  bare  of  trees 
and  planted  with  the  farmer's  crops.  Even  grass 
alone  serves  to  check  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
water  finds  its  way  to  the  bottom  of  the  slope.  Let 
it  be  covered  with  bushes  and  vines,  and  the  water 
flows  with  a  speed  still  more  diminished.  Let  this 
shrubbery  grow  into  a  forest,  and  the  valley  would 
never  be  inundated  except  by  a  long-continued  and 
flooding  rain.  Woods  and  their  undergrowth  are 
indeed  the  only  barriers  against  frequent  and  sudden 
inundations,  and  the  only  means  in  the  economy 
of  nature  for  preserving  an  equal  fulness  of  streams 
during  all  seasons  of  the  year. 

At  first  thought,  it  may  seem  strange  that  the 
clearing  of  forests  should  be  equally  the  cause  both 


300  ARBOR  DAY 

of  drought  and  inundations;  but  these  apparently 
incompatible  facts  are  easily  explained  by  consider- 
ing the  different  effects  produced  by  woods  standing 
in  different  situations.  An  excess  of  moisture  in  the 
valleys  comes  from  the  drainage  of  the  hills,  and  the 
same  conditions  that  will  cause  them  to  be  dried  up 
certain  times  will  cause  them  to  be  flooded  at 
others.  Nature's  design  seems  to  be  to  preserve 
a  constant  moderate  fulness  of  streams  and  standing 
water.  This  purpose  she  accomplishes  by  clothing 
the  general  surface  of  the  country  with  wood. 


THE  FOREST  SPONGE 
From  U.  S,  Forest  Service  Circular 
What  child  has  not  seen  a  muddy  freshet?  Yet 
this  sight,  so  common  in  the  spring,  is  full  of  sugges- 
tion for  a  forest  lesson.  The  stream  is  discolored 
by  the  earth  which  it  has  gathered  from  the  soil. 
This  carries  us  back  to  the  stream's  source,  in  the 
forest  springs.  Again,  it  shows  us  with  what  force 
the  water  has  rushed  over  the  exposed  ground  where 
there  was  no  forest  to  shield  and  bind  it.  In  just 
this  way  the  Mississippi  tears  down  and  flings  into 
its  bed,  each  summer,  more  soil  than  will  be  dredged 
with  years  of  costly  labor  to  make  the  Panama 
Canal.  An  experiment  with  fine  and  coarse  soils 
stirred  quickly  in  a  tumbler  of  water  and  then  allowed 
to  settle  explains  how  the  stream  continues  muddy 


WARNINGS  FROM  HISTORY         301 

while  it  runs  swiftly,  and  how  it  clears  again  as  it 
slackens  on  more  level  stretches,  dropping  the  soil 
to  the  bottom.  On  any  steep,  plowed  hillside,  or 
on  any  railroad  or  trolley  embankment,  exposed  soil 
may  be  seen  washing  with  the  rain.  A  forest  on  a 
mountain  slope  may  be  pictured  by  a  cloth  upon  a 
tilted  table;  then  if  water  be  poured  on  the  higher 
edge  it  will  creep  downward  through  the  cloth  and 
drip  slowly  from  the  lower  edge,  as  would  rain  falling 
upon  the  forest.  If  now  the  cloth  be  plucked  off, 
and  the  water  still  poured,  we  may  observe  at  once 
what  happens  when  such  a  forest  is  destroyed. 


WARNINGS    FROM   HISTORY 

{Compiled   in   1885    hy   the   National   Bureau   0} 
Education) 

PALESTINE 

BY  EMIL  ROTHE 

At  the  time  when  Joshua  conquered  the  Promised 
Land,  milk  and  honey  were  flowing  into  Canaan; 
that  is,  it  was  a  country  of  wonderful  fertility, 
blessed  with  a  delightful  climate.  Both  ranges  of 
the  Lebanon  and  its  Spur  Mountains  were  then 
densely  covered  with  forests,  in  which  the  famous 
cedar  predominated,  that  stately  tree  so  masterfully 
and  poetically  described  by  the  psalmist  and  the 
prophets.    The   large   and   continually   increasing 


302  ARBOR  DAY 

population  of  Palestine  enjoyed  comfort  and  abun- 
dance during  centuries.  But  the  gradual  devastation 
of  the  forests,  which  was  finally  completed  by  the 
Venetians  and  the  Genoese,  brought  about  a  general 
deterioration  of  the  country.  The  hills  of  Galilee, 
once  the  rich  pasturing  grounds  for  large  herds  of 
cattle,  are  now  sterile  knobs.  The  Jordan  became 
an  insignificant  stream,  and  the  several  beautiful 
smaller  rivers,  mentioned  in  the  Bible,  now  appear 
as  stony  runs,  leading  off  the  snow  and  rainwater, 
but  being  completely  dry  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  year.  Some  few  valleys,  in  which  the  fertile 
soil  washed  down  from  the  hills  was  deposited,  have 
retained  their  old  fertility,  but  the  few  cedar  trees 
remaining  as  a  landmark  around  the  Maronite 
convent  on  the  rocky  and  barren  Lebanon,  look 
lonely  and  mournfully  upon  an  arid  and  desolate 
country,  not  fit  to  sustain  one-sixth  of  such  a  popula- 
tion as  it  contained  at  the  time  of  Solomon. 


FRANCE 

BY  R.  W.  PHIPPS 

In  France  the  aristocrats  had  preserved  the 
forests.  But  when  Jacques  Bonhomme  had  over- 
thrown their  tyranny  he  proceeded  to  destroy  the 
groves  and  forests,  and  in  a  short  time  he  succeeded 
in  almost  staying  crop  growth  in  the  fields  adjacent. 
Wiser  councils  now  prevail;   experience  has  borne 


WARNINGS  FROM  HISTORY        303 

its  fruits,  and  the  French  forests,  particularly  near 
the  sea,  bear  witness  how  rapidly  Providence  assists 
a  liberal,  how  sternly  she  repays  a  greedy  and 
grasping,  cultivator. 


SPAIN 

BY  EMIL  ROTHE 

Under  the  reign  of  the  Moorish  caliphs  the  Iberian 
peninsula  resembled  a  vast  garden,  yielding  grain 
and  fruit,  of  every  known  variety,  in  the  most  perfect 
quality,  and  in  endless  abundance,  and  thickly 
populated  by  a  highly  cultivated  people.  But  then 
the  sierras  and  mountain  slopes  were  covered  with  a 
luxuriant  growth  of  timber,  which  was  afterwards 
wantonly  destroyed  under  the  rule  of  the  kings. 
Large  herds  of  half-wild  goats  and  sheep  prevented 
the  spontaneous  growth  of  trees  on  the  neglected 
lands.  Now  nearly  all  the  plateau-lands  of  Spain, 
being  fully  one-third  of  the  entire  area,  are  desert- 
like and  unfit  for  agriculture,  because  of  the  scarcity 
of  rain  and  the  want  of  water.  Another  one-third 
of  the  territory  is  covered  with  worthless  shrubs  and 
thorn-bushes,  and  affords  a  scanty  pasture  for  the 
merino  sheep,  the  number  of  which  is  decreasing 
from  year  to  year.  The  once  delicious  climate  has 
-become  changeable  and  rough,  since  there  are  no 
more  forests  to  break  the  power  of  the  scorching 
Salano  and  the  cold  Galego  wind.    The  average 


304  ARBOR  DAY 

depth  of  the  fine  rivers  that  cross  Spain  in  all  direc- 
tions has  greatly  diminished.  The  government, 
well  aware  of  the  causes  of  the  deterioration  of  the 
soil  and  climate,  has  lately  made  earnest  efiforts, 
partly  to  replant  the  old  forest  grounds,  but  has  met 
with  little  success,  it  being  very  difficult  to  make  trees 
grow  on  former  timber  land,  which  has  been  lying 
waste  for  a  longer  time.  It  will  take  a  full  century's 
time  and  necessitate  an  immense  outlay  of  money 
to  restock  Spain  with  sufficient  timber. 


SICILY 

BY  EMIL  ROTHE 

Let  us  look  at  Sicily,  once  the  great  grain  reservoir 
for  Rome.  Since  the  island  of  plenty  was  despoiled 
of  its  forests,  it  gradually  lost  its  fertility  and  the 
mildness  of  its  climate.  The  ruins  of  proud  and 
opulent  Syracuse  lay  in  a  desert,  covered  by  sand, 
which  the  hot  sirocco  carried  over  the  Mediterranean 
Sea  from  Africa.  A  few  isolated,  well- watered,  and 
carefully  cultivated  districts  of  very  limited  exten- 
sion, is  all  that  is  left  to  remind  the  tourist  of  the  by- 
gone glory  of  Sicily. 


THE  PYRENEES  MOUNTAINS 

BY  R.  W.  PHIPPS 

The  desolation  of  mountain  regions  by  the  clear- 
ing of  forests  is  strikingly  illustrated  in  the  Pyrenees. 


WARNINGS   FROM   HISTORY       305 

Formerly  the  plains  were  cultivated,  and  inundations 
were  much  less  frequent  and  less  destructive  than 
nowadays.  As  roads  came  to  be  opened  the  profit 
from  sheep  and  cattle  became  greater,  and  the  clear- 
ing of  forests  was  begun  to  make  room  for  pasturage 
and,  to  some  extent,  for  timber,  until  by  degrees  the 
slopes  of  the  mountains  were  denuded,  and  the  rains, 
having  nothing  to  hinder,  began  to  form  eroding 
torrents,  the  south  slopes  suffering  most,  because  first 
cleared  and  directly  exposed  to  the  sun's  heat.  The 
extremes  of  flood  and  drouth  became  excessive,  and 
extensive  tracts  have  been  ruined  for  present  occupa- 
tion from  this  source. 


ST.  HELENA 

BY  R.  W.  PHIPPS 

The  Island  of  St.  Helena,  the  well-known  scene 
of  Napoleon's  banishment,  furnishes  a  remarkable 
illustration  of  the  connection  that  exists  between 
forests  and  rainfall.  When  first  discovered,  in  1502, 
it  had  heavy  forests.  The  introduction  of  goats,  and 
other  causes,  destroyed  these  woodlands,  until  the 
island  was  almost  denuded.  The  consequences  were 
that  in  the  records  of  the  last  century  we  find  accounts 
of  repeated  and  almost  periodical  visitations  of 
very  severe  drought,  occasioning  various  losses  to 
cattle  and  crops.  Towards  the  end  of  the  last 
century,  however,  the  governor  saw  the  need  of 


3o6  ARBOR  DAY 

strenuous  efforts.  Gardeners  were  sent  for,  and 
trees  from  all  parts  of  the  world  were  planted,  with- 
out regard  to  their  character.  The  * '  Pinas  Pinaster  " 
was  sown  very  extensively,  and  several  plantations  of 
this  still  exist.  The  consequences  of  this  were  dis- 
covered a  few  years  ago  as  follows:  "For  many 
years  past,  since  the  general  growth  of  our  trees,  we 
have  been  preserved  from  the  scourge,  and  droughts 
such  as  were  formerly  recorded  are  now  altogether 
unknown.  Our  fall  of  rain  is  now  equal  to  that  of 
England,  and  is  spread  almost  evenly  over  the  year." 


OHIO 

BY  EMIL  ROTHE 

Have  you  never  tried  to  find  out  why  Southern 
Ohio  has  ceased  to  be  the  great  fruit  country  il 
was  formerly  known  to  be?  Why  is  it  that  we 
cannot  raise  any  more  peaches  in  our  State,  while 
they  used  to  bring  sure  crops  not  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century  ago?  .  .  .  What  is  it  that  makes 
our  climate,  once  so  favorable  for  mankind  and 
vegetation,  more  unsteady,  from  year  to  year? 
Look  at  the  woodless  hills  of  Southern  Ohio,  and 
you  have  the  answer. 

Let  the  hills  be  deprived  of  the  rest  of  the  protec- 
tion which  the  forests  afford,  and  half  of  the  area 
of  this  state  will  be  sterile  in  less  than  fifty  years. 
The  rain  will  wash  the  soil  from  the  hilltops  first, 


WARNINGS  FROM  HISTORY        307 

and  then  from  the  slopes;  the  limestone,  which  is 
now  covered  with  productive  humus,  loam  and  clay, 
will  be  laid  bare;  the  naked  rocks  will  reflect  the 
rays  of  the  sun  and  increase  the  summer  heat;  the 
north  storms  will  blow  unhindered  over  the  country, 
and  every  change  of  the  wind  will  cause  an  abrupt 
change  in  the  temperature.  The  rainfall  will  be 
diminished  and  become  irregular.  Snow  and  rain- 
water will  at  once  run  down  in  the  valleys  and  cause 
periodical  freshets,  which  will  ultimately  carry  away 
the  best  part  of  the  soil,  even  from  the  valleys. 
Such  will  be  the  unavoidable  results  of  further 
devastation  of  timber. 


KENTUCKY 
Hon.  Cassius  M.  Clay,  of  Kentucky,  said  before 
the  American  Forestry  Congress  at  Cincinnati: 
"I  remember,  when  the  forests  were  hardly  broken 
here,  that  springs  of  water  were  very  frequent  and 
perennial.  The  rivulets  and  creeks  and  rivers  had 
a  perpetual  flow.  These  have  now  changed.  The 
rivulets  and  creeks  are  now  dried  up  in  summer,  and 
the  fish  so  often  caught  by  me  in  earlier  years  are 
gone.  Not  one  spring  in  a  thousand  remains. 
Indian  com  was  generally  planted  in  March,  and  the 
rains  and  exhalations  of  moisture  from  the  surround- 
ings made  crops  successful  every  year.  Now,  the 
destruction  of  the  forests  has  lost  to  us  that  bed  of 


3o8  ARBOR  DAY 

leaves  which  was  a  perpetual  reservoir  of  water  for 
springs  and  evaporation;  aided  by  the  treading  of 
the  hard  surface,  the  rain  fall,  if  the  same  as  of  old, 
rushes  off  at  once,  sweeping  the  soil  into  the  Mis- 
sissippi delta.  The  dry  winds  absorb  not  only  the 
ancient  humidity  of  the  air,  but  drink  up  the  sub- 
soil evaporation,  so  that  our  winters  are  longer, 
more  changeable,  and  unendurable.  Com  can 
hardly  be  safely  planted  till  late  in  April,  and  drought 
too  often  ruins  all  in  spite  of  our  best  efforts." 


MASSACHUSETTS 
Professor  Sargent,  of  Harvard  University,  who 
has  given  this  question  as  much  study  as  any  one  in 
America,  says:  **As  moderators  of  the  extremes  of 
heat  and  cold,  the  benefits  derived  from  extensive 
forests  are  undoubted,  and  that  our  climate  is  gradu- 
ally changing  through  their  destruction  is  apparent 
to  the  most  casual  observer.  Our  springs  are  later, 
our  summers  are  drier,  and  every  year  becoming 
more  so;  our  autumns  are  carried  forward  into 
winter,  while  our  winter  climate  is  subject  to  far 
greater  changes  of  temperature  than  formerly.  The 
total  average  of  snowfall  is  perhaps  as  great  as  ever, 
but  it  is  certainly  less  regular  and  covers  the  ground 
for  a  shorter  period  than  formerly.  Twenty  years 
ago  peaches  were  a  profitable  crop  in  Massachusetts; 
now  we  must  depend  on  New  Jersey  and  Delaware 


WARNINGS   FROM  HISTORY       309 

for  our  supply;  and  our  apples  and  other  orchard 
fruits  now  come  from  beyond  the  limits  of  New- 
England.  The  failure  of  these  and  other  crops  in 
the  older  states  is  generally  ascribed  to  the  exhaus- 
tion of  the  soil;  but  with  greater  reason  it  can  be 
referred  to  the  destruction  of  the  forests  which 
sheltered  us  from  the  cold  winds  of  the  north  and 
west,  and  which,  keeping  the  soil  under  their  shade 
cool  in  summer  and  warm  in  winter,  acted  at  once 
as  material  barriers,  and  reservoirs  of  moisture." 


THE  NORTHWEST 
"I  HAD  an  opportimity,"  says  Mr.  Rothe,  "to 
observe  and  study  the  results  caused  by  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  forests  in  the  Northwest.  Thirty  years 
ago  steamboats  drawing  six  feet  of  water  made  regular 
trips  on  the  Upper  Mississippi  up  to  St.  Paul.  Now 
the  navigation  with  boats  of  half  that  draft  is 
uncertain.  Nearly  all  the  tributaries  of  the  Upper 
Mississippi  have  also  lost  one-half,  or  even  more, 
of  their  former  supply  of  water.  Inundations  in  the 
spring  are  now  frequent,  while  now  in  the  summer 
time  the  depth  of  many  of  these  rivers  average  hardly 
more  inches  than  could  be  measured  by  feet  thirty 
years  ago.  Water-powers,  which  were  formerly 
deemed  to  be  inexhaustible,  have  entirely  been  aban- 
doned, or  their  failing  motive  power  has  been 
replaced  by  steam.     In  the  remembrance  of  the  older 


310  ARBOR  DAY 

settlers  the  climate  of  Wisconsin  and  Minnesota  was 
remarkably  steady,  the  winters  were  long  and  cold, 
the  supply  of  snow  ample  and  regular,  and  late 
frosts  in  the  spring  were  unusual.  Now  the  inhabit- 
ants complain  of  abrupt  changes  of  the  temperature 
in  all  seasons  of  the  year,  and  of  the  irregularity 
of  the  snowfall.  The  Legislature  of  Wisconsin  has 
already  paid  attention  to  these  alarming  facts,  and 
has  taken  the  preservation  of  existing  forests,  and  the 
establishment  of  artificial  ones  into  earnest  considera- 
tion. By  a  resolution  recently  passed,  it  asks  of  the 
National  Government  the  transfer  for  that  purpose 
of  all  unsold  public  lands  to  the  state  which  are  now 
despoiled  of  their  timber  by  thievish  lumbermen." 


ARIZONA 

BY  EMEL  ROTHE 

In  the  territory  of  Arizona  an  immense  number 
of  deserted  Indian  dwellings  carved  out  of  the  rocks 
were  recently  discovered.  The  former  inhabitants 
of  the  same  must  necessarily  have  been  a  sedative 
people,  devoted  to  agriculture,  but  the  whole  district 
is  now  nearly  a  desert,  there  being  no  supply  of 
water,  and  hills  as  well  as  plateaus  and  valleys  are 
dry,  stony,  and  nearly  destitute  of  vegetation.  This 
cannot  have  been  the  condition  of  that  district  when 
it  was  densely  populated  by  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  Indians.    Now  the  only  plausible  solution  of  the 


WARNINGS   FROM  HISTORY  311 

ethnographical  enigma  which  is  here  propounded  to 
us,  is  the  following:  The  hills  and  slopes  there  were 
once  stocked  with  lumber,  which  was  wasted  by  the 
inhabitants.  The  same  deterioration  of  the  country 
gradually  took  place  which  we  notice  in  Palestine, 
Greece,  and  Sicily,  where  the  people  had  to  emigrate 
to  avoid  starvation. 

But  enough  of  the  warning  examples  of  history. 

It  is  not  too  late  to  repair  all  the  damage  that  has 
been  done  in  America  by  the  devastation  of  our 
natural  forests.  A  regulation  of  the  use  of  the  timber 
may  be  effected  without  any  injury  to  the  legitimate 
lumber  trade,  and  the  replanting  as  well  as  the  estab- 
lishment of  artificial  forests,  may  undoubtedly  be 
madf  ^profitable  for  private  as  well  as  for  public 
enterprise.  If  it  is  remunerative  to  acclimatize  and 
extensively  raise  American  trees  in  Germany  and 
France,  where  the  soil  is  much  higher  in  price  than 
here,  why  should  it  not  be  lucrative  to  cultivate  them 
in  those  parts  of  the  United  States  in  which  the 
timber  is  scarce  and  precious?  They  grow  quicker 
here  and  to  greater  perfection  than  anywhere  else. 
Nature  has  lavishly  provided  this  country  with  an 
uncommonly  large  number  of  the  most  valuable 
species  of  trees.  There  are  not  more  than  thirty- 
five  species  and  distinct  varieties  of  native  trees  in 
France  which  attain  a  height  of  over  thirty  feet,  not 
more  than  sixty-five  in  Germany,  but  over  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  in  the  upper  part  of  the  Mississippi 


312  ARBOR  DAY 

Valley  alone.  All  Europe  possesses  not  a  single 
native  walnut  tree.  (The  so-called  English  walnut 
is  of  Asiatic  origin.)  We  have  nine  varieties  of 
hickory  and  two  of  walnut  proper.  You  may 
search  all  the  world  over  in  vain  to  find  a  sort  of 
timber  which,  in  general  usefulness,  can  rival  our 
hickory  tree.  Our  walnut  and  oak  varieties  alone 
outnumber  all  the  varieties  of  trees  native  to  France 
and  Spain. 

A  benign  nature  has  lavishly  provided  for  this 
country;  but  does  that  give  us  a  right  to  waste  these 
blessings,  destined  for  the  human  race  of  all  future 
ages,  within  the  short  life  of  a  few  generations,  like 
spendthrifts?  Shall  we  adopt  the  most  detestable 
motto  of  a  modem  Sardanapalus,  ^^  Aprhs  nous  le 
deluge"  —  anticipate  every  thing,  and  leave  nothing 
for  those  who  will  come  after  us?  Will  America's 
pride  bear  the  humiliating  prospect  of  having  the 
immense  work  of  culture,  which  so  far  has  been 
achieved  in  this  country  by  the  most  intelligent, 
independent,  progressive,  and  energetic  of  all  nations, 
frustrated  by  the  unavoidable  consequences  of  our 
greedy  mismanagement  of  the  natural  resources  of 
our  country  ?  Shall  the  future  of  this  great  republic 
be  made  uncertain  by  a  gradual  deterioration  of  soil 
and  climate,  or  shall  it  forever  remain  the  happy  and 
comfortable  home  of  the  free?  Is  not  the  care  for 
future  generations  one  of  the  most  solemn  duties 
imposed  upon  us  by  laws  of  humanity  and  morality  ? 


"WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE"   313 

Are  we  worthy  to  enjoy  the  bequest  of  our  fore- 
fathers if  we  are  not  just  and  liberal  enough  to 
provide  for  our  descendants  ? 


"WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE" 

HISTORY  OF  THE  POEM 

Mr.  Morris,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  dated  New 
York,  February  i,  1837,  gave  in  substance  the  fol- 
lowing account: 

Riding  out  of  town  a  few  days  since,  in  company 
with  a  friend,  an  old  gentleman,  he  invited  me  to 
turn  down  a  little,  romantic  woodland  pass,  not  far 
from  Bloomingdale.  "Your  object?"  inquired  1. 
"  Merely  to  look  once  more  at  an  old  tree  planted  by 
my  grandfather  long  before  I  was  bom,  under  which 
I  used  to  play  when  a  boy,  and  where  my  sisters 
played  with  me.  There  I  often  listened  to  the  good 
advice  of  my  parents.  Father,  mother,  sisters  — 
all  are  gone;  nothing  but  the  old  tree  remains." 
And  a  paleness  overspread  his  fine  countenance, 
and  tears  came  to  his  eyes.  After  a  moment's 
pause,  he  added:  "Don't  think  me  foolish.  I  don't 
know  how  it  is:  I  never  ride  out  but  I  turn  down  this 
lane  to  look  at  that  old  tree.  I  have  a  thousand 
recollections  about  it,  and  I  always  greet  it  as  a 
familiar  and  well-remembered  friend."  These  words 
were  scarcely  uttered  when  the  old  gentleman  cried 


314  ARBOR   DAY 

out,  **  There  it  is  !"  Near  the  tree  stood  a  man  with 
'■"•  "o?.t  off,  -hpTDening  an  axe.  "You're  not  going 
't  that  tr  e  down,  surely?"  "Yes,  but  I  am, 
^..oagh,'*  said  the  woodman.  "What  for?" 
inquired  the  old  gentleman,  with  choked  emotion. 
"What  for?  I  like  that!  Well,  I  will  tell  you,  I 
want  the  tree  for  firewoods"  "What  is  the  tree 
worth  to  you  for  firewood?"  "Why,  when  down, 
about  ten  dollars."  "Suppose  I  should  give  you 
that  sum,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "would  you  let 
it  stand?"  "Yes."  "You  are  sure  of  that?" 
"Positive!"  "Then  give  me  a  bond  to  that  effect." 
We  went  into  the  little  cottage  in  which  my  com- 
panion was  bom,  but  which  is  now  occupied  by  the 
woodman.  I  drew  up  the  bond.  It  was  signed, 
and  the  money  paid  over.  As  we  left,  the  young 
girl,  the  daughter  of  the  woodman,  assured  us  that 
while  she  lived  the  tree  should  not  be  cut.  These 
circumstances  made  a  strong  impression  on  my  mind, 
and  furnished  me  with  the  materials  for  the  song  I 
send  you. 


WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE 

BY  GEORGE  P.  MORRIS 

Woodman,  spare  that  tree! 

Touch  not  a  single  bough! 
In  youth  it  sheltered  me, 

And  I'll  protect  it  now. 


WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE    315 

'Twas  my  forefather's  hand 

That  placed  it  near  his  cot; 
There,  woodman,  let  it  stand  — 

Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not! 

That  old  familiar  tree. 

Whose  glory  and  renown 
Are  spread  o'er  land  and  sea  — 

And  wouldst  thou  hew  it  down? 
Woodman,  forbear  thy  stroke! 

Cut  not  its  earth-bound  ties; 
Oh,  spare  that  aged  oak. 

Now  towering  to  the  skies! 

When  but  an  idle  boy, 

I  sought  its  graceful  shade; 
In  all  their  gushing  joy 

Here,  too,  my  sisters  played. 
My  mother  kissed  me  here; 

My  father  pressed  my  hand  — 
Forgive  this  foolish  tear, 

But  let  that  old  oak  stand! 

My   heart-strings   round    thee   cling, 

Close  as  thy  bark,  old  friend! 
Here  shall  the  wild-bird  sing. 

And  still  thy  branches  bend. 
Old  tree!  the  storm  still  brave! 

And,  woodman,  leave  the  spot: 
While  I've  a  hand  to  save. 

Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not! 


3i6  ARBOR  DAY 

THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  FORESTS 

BY  GEORGE  P.  MARSH 

From  Man  and  Nature 
The  objects  of  the  restoration  of  the  forests  axe 
as  multifarious  as  the  motives  which  have  led  to 
their  destruction,  and  as  the  evils  which  that  destruc- 
tion has  occasioned.  The  planting  of  the  mountains 
will  diminish  the  frequency  and  violence  of  river 
inundations;  prevent  the  formation  of  torrents; 
mitigate  the  extremes  of  atmospheric  temperature, 
humidity  and  precipitation;  restore  dried-up  springs, 
rivulets  and  sources  of  irrigation;  shelter  the  fields 
from  chilling  and  from  parching  winds;  prevent  the 
spread  of  miasmatic  effluvia;  and,  finally,  furnish 
an  inexhaustible  and  self-renewing  supply  of  material 
indispensable  to  so  many  purposes  of  domestic 
comfort,  to  the  successful  exercise  of  every  act  of 
peace,  every  destructive  energy  of  war. 


THE  USES  OF  THE  FOREST* 

BY  GIFFORD    PINCHOT 

From  A  Primer  oj  Forestry 
A  FOREST,  large  or  small,  may  render  its  service 
in  many  ways.    It  may  reach  its  highest  usefulness 
by  standing  as  a  safeguard  against  floods,  winds, 
*  Government  Printing  Office,  1905. 


THE    USES    OF    THE    FOREST      317 

snow  slides,  moving  sands,  or  especially  against  the 
dearth  of  water  in  the  streams.  A  forest  used  in  this 
way  is  called  a  protection  forest,  and  is  usually  found 
in  the  mountains,  or  on  bleak,  open  plains,  or  by  the 
sea.  Forests  which  protect  the  headwaters  of 
streams  used  for  irrigation,  and  many  of  the  larger 
windbreaks  of  the  Western  plains,  are  protection 
forests.  The  Adirondack  and  Catskill  woodlands 
were  regarded  as  protection  forests  by  the  people  of 
the  State  of  New  York  when  they  forbade,  in  the 
constitution  of  1895,  the  felling,  destruction,  or 
removal  of  any  trees  from  the  State  Forest  Preserve. 

A  farmer  living  directly  on  the  produce  of  his  land 
would  find  his  woodlot  most  useful  to  him  when  it 
supplied  the  largest  amount  of  wood  for  his  peculiar 
needs,  or  the  best  grazing  for  his  cattle.  A  railroad 
holding  land  which  it  did  not  wish  to  sell  would 
perhaps  find  it  most  useful  when  it  produced  the 
greatest  number  of  ties  and  bridge  timbers.  In 
both  cases  the  forest  would  render  its  best  service 
by  producing  the  greatest  quantity  of  valuable 
material.  This  is  the  central  idea  upon  which  the 
national  forests  of  France  are  managed. 

The  greatest  return  in  money  may  be  the  service 
most  desired  of  the  forest.  If  a  farmer  wished  to  sell 
the  product  of  his  woodlot  instead  of  consuming  it 
himself,  his  woodland  would  be  useful  to  him 
just  in  proportion  to  its  net  yield  in  money.  This 
is  true  also  in  the  case  of  any  owner  of  a  forest  who 


3i8  ARBOR  DAY 

wish(^  to  dispose  of  its  product,  but  who  cannot, 
or  will  not,  sell  the  forest  itself.  State  forests,  like 
those  in  the  Adirondacks,  often  render  their  best 
service,  in  addition  to  their  usefulness  as  protection 
forests,  by  producing  the  greatest  net  money  return. 

Regarded  as  an  investment  of  capital,  a  forest  is 
most  useful  when  it  yields  the  highest  rate  of  interest. 
A  forest  whose  owner  could  sell  it  if  he  chose,  but 
prefers  to  hold  it  as  productive  capital,  is  useful  in 
proportion  to  the  interest  it  yields  on  the  money 
invested  in  it.  Thus,  an  acre  of  sprout  land  may 
be  worth  only  $5,  while  the  investment  in  adjoining 
land  stocked  with  old  trees  may  be  $50  an  acre. 
This  is  the  view  which  controls  the  management  of 
state  forests  in  Germany.  Lumbermen  also  regard 
timberland  as  an  investment,  but  usually  they  take 
no  care  except  for  the  yield  at  the  moment.  They 
disregard  the  future  yield  altogether,  and  in  con- 
sequence the  forest  loses  its  capital  value,  or  may 
even  be  totally  destroyed.  Well- managed  forests, 
on  the  other  hand,  are  made  to  yield  their  service 
always  without  endangering  the  future  yield,  and 
usually  to  its  great  advantage.  Like  the  plant  of  a 
successful  manufacturer,  a  forest  should  increase 
in  productiveness  and  value  year  by  year. 

Under  various  circumstances,  then,  a  forest  may 
yield  its  best  return  in  protection,  in  wood,  grass, 
or  other  forest  products,  in  money,  or  in  interest  on 
the  capital  it  represents.     But  whichever  of  these 


FOUR  REQUIREMENTS  319 

ways  of  using  the  forest  may  be  chosen  in  any  given 
case,  the  fundamental  idea  in  forestry  is  that  of 
perpetuation  by  wise  use;  that  is,  of  making  the 
forest  yield  the  best  service  possible  at  the  present 
in  such  a  way  that  its  usefulness  in  the  future  will  not 
be  diminished,  but  rather  increased. 


FOUR  REQUIREMENTS    FOR    THE    BEST 
SERVICE 

BY  GIFFORD  PINCHOT 

A  FOREST  well  managed  under  the  methods  of 
practical  forestry  will  yield  a  return  in  one  of  the 
ways  just  mentioned.  There  are,  however,  four 
things  a  forest  must  have  before  it  can  be  in  condition 
to  render  the  best  service. 

The  first  of  these  is  protection,  especially  against 
fire,  overgrazing,  and  thieves,  for  without  such 
protection  no  investment  is  secure  and  the  most 
skilful  management  is  of  little  effect. 

The  second  is  strong  and  abundant  reproduction. 
A  forest  without  young  growth  is  like  a  family  without 
children.     It  will  speedily  die  out. 

The  third  requirement  is  a  regular  supply  of  trees 
ripe  for  the  axe.  This  can  be  secured  only  by  the 
right  porportion  of  each  of  the  smaller  sizes 
constantly  coming  on  in  the  growing  forest. 

The  fourth  requirement  is  growing  space  enough 
for  every  tree,  so  that  the  forest  as  a  whole  may 


3^0  ARBOR  DAY 

not  only  produce  wood  as  fast  as  possible,  but  the 
most  valuable  sort  of  wood  as  well.  If  the  trees 
stand  too  far  apart,  their  trunks  will  be  short  and 
thickly  covered  with  branches,  the  lumber  cut  from 
them  will  be  full  of  knots,  and  its  value  will  be 
small.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  trees  stand  too 
closely  together,  although  their  trunks  will  be  tall 
and  clear  of  branches,  they  will  be  small  in  diameter, 
and  for  that  reason  low  in  value.  With  the  right 
amount  of  growing  space,  trees  grow  both  tall 
and  of  good  diameter,  and  their  trunks  supply 
lumber  of  higher  price  because  it  is  wide  and  clear. 


WHAT  DO  WE  PLANT  WHEN  WE  PLANT 
THE  TREE? 

BY  HENRY  ABBEY 

What  do  we  plant  when  we  plant  the  tree? 
We  plant  the  ship  which  will  cross  the  sea, 
We  plant  the  mast  to  carry  the  sails, 
We  plant  the  planks  to  withstand  the  gales  — 
The  keel,  the  keelson,  and  beam  and  knee  — 
We  plant  the  ship  when  we  plant  the  tree. 

What  do  we  plant  when  we  plant  the  tree? 
We  plant  the  houses  for  you  and  me. 
We  plant  the  rafters,  the  shingles,  the  floors. 
We  plant  the  studding,  the  lath,  the  doors 
The  beams  and  siding,  all  parts  that  be. 
We  plant  the  house  when  we  plant  the  tree. 


FACTS   ABOUT  TREES  321 

What  do  we  plant  when  we  plant  the  tree? 
A  thousand  things  that  we  daily  see. 
We  plant  the  spire  that  out-towers  the  crag, 
We  plant  the  staff  for  our  country's  flag, 
We  plant  the  shade  from  the  hot  sun  free; 
We  plant  all  these  when  we  plant  the  tree. 


FACTS  ABOUT  TREES   FOR  THE  LITTLE 

ONES 

From  Primary  Education 

{A  Recitation) 

1.  Cutting  down  trees  spoils  the  beauty  of  the 
landscape.  I  would  not  like  to  live  where  there 
were  no  trees. 

2.  There  are  few  birds  where  there  are  no  trees. 
They  have  no  place  to  make  their  homes. 

3.  Taking  away  the  trees  takes  away  the  protec- 
tion from  our  tender  fruit  trees. 

4.  Where  there  are  no  trees  the  snows  melt  and  go 
off  too  rapidly;  the  moisture  that  should  sink  into 
the  soil  is  carried  away  in  floods. 

5.  Because  our  forests  are  taken  away  we  have 
severe  droughts  every  year. 

6.  One  full-grown  elm  tree  gives  out  fifteen  tons 
of  moisture  in  twenty-four  hours.  A  large  sunflower 
plant  gives  off  three  pints  of  water  in  one  day. 

7.  The  trees  give  us  lumber,  fuel,  wood,  pulp  for 
newspapers,   cork,   bark  for  tanning,   wild  fruits, 


^2^  ARBOR  DAY 

nuts,  resin,  turpentine,  oils,  and  various  products 
for  medicines. 

8.  We  should  have  greater  extremes  of  heat  and 
cold  if  it  were  not  for  the  trees  and  forests. 

9.  The  leaves  of  trees  catch  the  rain  and  hold  it 
a  little  while;  then  they  drop  the  water  a  little  at  a 
time;  this  is  better  for  the  ground. 

10.  The  old  leaves  make  a  deep  sponge  carpet  in 
the  woods,  and  this  keeps  the  ground  from  freezing. 
If  the  earth  does  not  freeze  it  takes  up  the  rain  better. 

11.  We  might  have  dangerous  floods  if  we  did  not 
have  trees.  The  trunks  and  roots  of  trees  stop  the 
water  that  comes  pouring  down  the  hillside. 

12.  I  will  be  very  careful  not  to  hurt  any  tree,  but 
will  call  every  tree  my  friend. 


FOREST  PRESERVATION  AND 
RESTORATION 

BY  JAMES  S.  WHIPPLE 

My  desire  in  writing  this  article  is  to  interest  my 
readers  in  the  protection  of  our  forests,  fish,  game 
animals,  and  game  and  song  birds.  It  is,  of  course, 
most  important  that  the  forest  should  be  preserved, 
for  upon  its  life  depends  largely  the  life  of  the  fish, 
and  the  game  animals  and  birds. 

The  necessity  for  preserving  the  forest  for  com- 
mercial purposes  alone  is  apparent.    There  are  on 


PRESERVATION  AND  RESTORATION  323 

public  and  private  lands  in  this  state  of  New  York 
abou  t4 1, 000,000,000  feet  of  timber,  board  measure. 
Last  year  there  were  cut  and  manufactured  in  the 
state  1,500,000,000  feet  of  lumber,  taken,  of  course, 
from  private  lands,  since  a  clause  in  the  Constitution 
prohibits  the  removal  of  timber  from  state  lands. 
But  at  the  same  rate  of  cutting,  all  the  timber  in  the 
state,  public  and  private,  would  not  last  more  than 
thirty  years.  To  be  sure,  there  is  considerable 
growth  going  on  in  the  forest,  but  this  is  more  than 
offset  by  the  increasing  demand  for  lumber  on 
account  of  the  rapidly  growing  population,  and  the 
increasing  use  of  wood  in  manufacturing. 

The  first  settlers  along  the  Hudson  knew  some- 
thing about  practical  forestry,  and  the  necessity  of 
forest  preservation.  They  had  learned  it  in  Hol- 
land. On  their  arrival  here  they  found  a  great, 
deep,  dark  forest  stretching  westward,  how  far  they 
did  not  know.  They  found  it  a  hindrance  and 
constant  threat.  It  hid  their  enemies.  In  order  to 
build,  to  plant,  and  to  make  a  place  to  live,  it  had  to 
be  cut  down  and  removed.  It  was  about  this  first 
cutting  that  the  poet  wrote. 

His  echoing  axe  the  settler  swung 

Amid  the  sea-like  solitude, 
And  rushing,  thundering  down  were  flung 

The  Titans  of  the  wood. 

The  early  settlers  soon  forgot  their  forestry  prin- 
ciples, and  the  second  generation  knew  little  and  cared 


324  ARBOR  DAY 

less  about  them.  Billions  of  feet  of  good  timber 
were  deliberately  burned  to  ashes  to  get  it  out  of  the 
way.  There  was  great  waste,  wanton  waste,  because 
much  timber  was  taken  from  lands  that  could  never 
be  used  for  tillage. 

An  examination  of  the  early  colonial  laws,  the 
acts  of  Parliament  to  the  mother  country,  shows  that 
as  far  back  as  1640  there  was  a  very  correct  idea  of 
the  value  of  the  splendid  pine  forest  that  covered  the 
lands  of  the  new  world.  Yet  nothing  practical  was 
done  until  1885,  when  a  commission  was  appointed 
in  this  state,  which  commenced  the  work  now  carried 
on  by  the  department  which  I  have  the  honor 
to  represent.  A  hundred  years  previously,  however, 
a  commission  had  been  appointed  to  investigate 
and  report  upon  the  forests  of  the  state  and  devise 
some  plan  to  acquire  and  save  some  of  the  forest 
lands.  But  nothing  came  of  it  and  no  legislation 
followed.  Surely  in  this  case  the  Legislature  can- 
not be  accused  of  hasty  legislation. 

If  our  forests  were  converted  into  lumber  they 
would  be  worth  many  millions  of  dollars,  but  they 
are  worth  many  millions  more  if  left  standing,  and 
managed  according  to  forestry  principles.  Not  only 
will  they  then  continue  to  grow,  but  they  will  protect 
the  headwaters  of  our  streams,  regulate  temperature, 
protect  from  hot  and  cold  winds,  serve  as  a  health 
and  pleasure  resort,  and  furnish  a  home  for  game, 
fish,  and  song  birds. 


SPARE  THE  TREES  325 

It  is  time  to  call  a  halt  on  forest  destruction,  and 
order  a  forward  march  on  forest  restoration.  The 
great  pines  once  used  for  spars  and  planks  in  the 
king's  ships  are  all  gone.  The  great  oak  forests  are 
seen  no  more.  Their  grandeur  and  beauty  are 
known  only  in  legend,  song,  and  story.  But  a 
worse  disaster  is  close  at  hand.  In  a  few  years  we 
shall  experience  the  inconvenience  of  a  wood  famine. 
If  we  would  minimize  its  effects,  and  prevent  the 
dire  results  of  forest  destruction  upon  the  streams, 
fish  and  game,  we  must  bestir  ourselves. 

At  least  two  lines  of  action  it  is  certainly  our  duty 
to  follow.  The  state  should  immediately  acquire 
a  million  acres  more  land  in  the  Adirondacks,  and 
five  hundred  thousand  more  acres  in  the  Catskills. 
Then,  not  only  should  the  state  plant  millions  of 
trees  each  year  upon  its  denuded  lands,  but  it  should 
encourage  private  owners  to  reforest  all  ground  not 
good  for  agriculture.  The  State  should  raise  and 
distribute  seedling  trees,  at  actual  cost,  or,  if  pos- 
sible, free  of  cost,  to  all  persons  who  will  plant  them 
according  to  directions  furnished  by  the  state. 


SPARE  THE  TREES 

BY  MADAME  MICHELET 


Alas,  in  how  many  places  is  the  forest  which  once 
lent  us  shade,  nothing  more  than  a  memory.    The 


326  ARBOR  DAY 

grave  and  noble  circle  which  adorned  the  mountain 
is  every  day  contracting.  Where  you  come  in  hope 
of  seeing  life,  you  find  but  the  image  of  death.  Oh, 
who  will  really  undertake  the  defense  of  the  trees, 
and  rescue  them  from  senseless  destruction?  Who 
will  eloquently  set  forth  their  manifold  mission, 
and  their  active  and  incessant  assistance  in  the 
regulation  of  the  laws  which  rule  our  globe?  With- 
out them,  it  seems  delivered  over  to  blind  destiny, 
which  will  involve  it  again  into  chaos.  The  motive 
powers  and  purifiers  of  the  atmosphere  through  the 
respiration  of  their  foliage,  avaricious  collectors,  to 
the  advantage  of  future  ages,  of  the  solar  heat,  it  is 
they  which  pacify  the  storm  and  avert  its  most 
disastrous  consequences.  In  the  low-lying  plains, 
which  have  no  outlet  for  their  waters,  the  trees,  long 
before  the  advent  of  man,  drained  the  soil  by  their 
roots,  forcing  the  stagnant  waters  to  descend  and 
construct  at  a  lower  depth  their  useful  reservoirs. 
And  now,  on  the  abrupt  declivities,  they  consolidate 
the  crumbling  soil,  check  and  break  the  torrent, 
control  the  melting  of  the  snows,  and  preserve 
to  the  meadows  the  fertile  humidity  which  in  due 
time  will  overspread  them  with  a  sea  of  flowers. 
And  is  not  this  enough  ?  To  watch  over  the  life  of 
the  plant  and  its  general  harmony,  is  it  not  to 
watch  over  the  safety  of  humanity  ?  The  tree,  again, 
was  created  for  the  nurture  of  man,  to  assist  him  in 
his  industries  and  his  arts.     It  is  owing  to  the  tree, 


SPARE  THE  TREES  327 

to  its  soul,  earth-buried  for  so  many  centuries,  and 
now  restored  to  light,  that  we  have  secured  the  wings 
of  the  steam  engine.  Thank  heaven  for  the  trees! 
With  my  feeble  voice  I  claim  for  them  the  gratitude 
of  man. 


vm 

EXERCISES 


AN  ARBOR  DAY  EXERCISE 
First  Pupil 

To  HIM  who  in  the  love  of  nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A  various  language;  for  his  gayer  hours 
She  has  a  voice  of  gladness,  and  a  smile 
And  eloquence  of  beauty,  and  she  glides 
Into  his  darker  musings  with  a  mild 
And  healing  sympathy,  that  steals  away 
Their  sharpness,  ere  he  is  aware. 

— Bryant. 

Second  Pupil. 

For  Nature  beats  in  perfect  tune, 

And  rounds  with  rhyme  her  every  rune. 

Whether  she  work  in  land  or  sea, 

Or  hide  underground  her  alchemy. 

Thou  can'st  not  wave  thy  staff  in  air 

Or  dip  thy  paddle  in  the  lake, 

But  it  carves  the  bow  of  beauty  there, 

And  the  ripples  in  rhymes  the  oar  forsake. 

The  wood  is  wiser  far  than  thou; 

The  wood  and  wave  each  other  know. 

Not  unrelated,  unaffied, 


332  ARBOR  DAY 

But  to  each  thought  and  thing  allied, 
Is  perfect  Nature's  every  part, 
Rooted  in  the  mighty  Heart. 

—Emerson. 

Third  Pupil, 
One  impulse  from  a  vernal  wood 

May  teach  you  more  of  man, 
Of  moral  evil  and  of  good, 
Than  all  the  sages  can. 

—Wordsworth. 

Fourth  Pupil. 

Faint  murmurs  from  the  pine-tops  reach  my  ear, 
As  if  a  harp-string  —  touched  in  some  far  sphere — 
Vibrating  in  the  lucid  atmosphere. 
Let  the  soft  south  wind  waft  its  music  here. 

— T.  B.  Aldrich. 

Fifth  Pupil. 

Old  trees  in  their  living  state  are  the  only  things 
that  money  cannot  command.  Rivers  leave  their 
beds,  run  into  cities  and  traverse  mountains  for  it; 
obelisks  and  arches,  palaces  and  temples,  amphi- 
theaters and  pyramids  rise  up  like  exhalations  at  its 
bidding.  Even  the  free  spirit  of  man,  the  only  thing 
great  on  earth,  crouches  and  cowers  in  its  presence. 
It  passes  away  and  vanishes  before  venerable  trees. 

— Landor. 


TREES  333 


TREES 

ANONYMOUS 

For  a  Class  Exercise 

First  Pupil, 

Forest  trees  have  always  '^haunted  me  like  a 
passion."  Let  us  summon  a  few  of  them,  prime 
favorites,  and  familiar  to  the  American  forest. 

Second  Pupil, 

First  the  As  pen  j  what  soft  silver-gray  tints  on  its 
leaves,  how  smooth  its  mottled  bark,  its  whole  shape 
how  delicate  and  sensitive! 

Third  Pupil, 

Next  the  Elntj  how  noble  the  lift  and  droop  of  its 
branches;  it  has  the  shape  of  the  Greek  vase,  such 
lavish  foliage,  running  down  the  trunk  to  the  very 
roots,  as  if  a  rich  vine  were  wreathed  around  it! 

Fourth  Pupil, 

Then  the  Maple j  what  a  splendid  cupola  of  leaves 
it  builds  up  into  the  sky,  and  in  autumn,  its  crimson 
is  so  rich,  one  might  term  it  the  blush  of  the  woods! 


334  ARBOR  DAY 

Fifth  Pupil. 

And  the  Beech,  how  cheerful  its  snow-spotted  trunk 
looks  in  the  deep  woods!  The  pattering  of  the 
beechnut  upon  the  dead  leaves,  in  the  hazy  days  of 
our  Indian  summer,  makes  a  music  like  the  dripping 
of  a  rill,  in  the  mournful  forest. 

Sixth  Pupil, 

The  Birch  is  a  great  favorite  of  mine.  How  like 
a  shaft  of  ivory  it  gleams  in  the  daylight  woods! 
How  the  flame  of  moonlight  kindles  it  into  columned 
pearl! 

Seventh  Pupil, 

Now  the  Oak,  what  a  tree  it  is!  First  a  tiny 
needle  rising  grandly  toward  the  sun,  a  wreath  of 
green  to  endure  for  ages.  The  child  gathers  the 
violet  at  its  foot;  as  a  boy  he  pockets  its  acorns;  as 
a  man  he  looks  at  its  heights  towering  up  and  makes 
it  the  emblem  of  his  ambition. 

Eighth  Pupil. 

We  now  come  to  the  PinCf  of  all  my  greatest 
favorite.  The  oak  may  be  king  of  the  lowlands, 
but  the  pine  is  king  of  the  hills.  There  he  lifts  his 
haughty  front  like  the  warrior  he  is,  and  when  he  is 
roused  to  meet  the  onslaught  of  the  storm,  the  battle- 
cry  he  sends  down  the  wind  is  heard  above  all  the 
voices  of  the  greenwood. 


TREES  335 

Ninth  Pupil. 
We  will  merely  touch,  in  passing,  upon  the  Hem- 
locky  with  its  masses  of  evergreen  needles,  and  the 
Cedar  with  its  misty  blue  berries;  and  the  Sumac 
with  its  clusters  of  crimson,  and  the  Witch-hazel^ 
smiling  at  winter,  with  its  curled,  sharp-cut  flowers 
of  golden  velvet. 

Tenth  Pupil 

Did  you  ever,  while  wandering  in  the  forest  about 
the  first  of  June,  have  your  eyes  dazzled  at  a  distance 
with  what  you  supposed  to  be  a  tree  ladened  with 
snow?  It  was  the  Dogwood,  gUttering  in  its  white 
blossoms.  It  brightens  the  last  days  of  spring  with 
its  floral  beauty. 

Eleventh  Pupil. 

While  admiring  the  dogwood,  an  odor  of  exquisite 
sweetness  may  salute  you;  and,  if  at  all  conversant 
in  tree  knowledge,  you  will  know  it  is  the  Basswood, 
clustered  with  yellow  blossoms,  golden  bells  pouring 
out  such  strong,  delicious  fragrance,  you  must  all 
realize  the  idea  of  Shelley. 

All. 

And  the  hyacinths,  purple  and  white  and  blue, 
Which  flung  from  its  bells  a  sweet  peal  anew, 
Of  music  so  delicate,  soft  and  intense. 
It  was  felt  like  an  odor  within  the  sense. 


336  ARBOR  DAY 

ARBOR  DAY  ALPHABET 

BY  ADA  SIMPSON  SHERWOOD 

{For  twenty-six  small  children) 
(Let  each  child  wear  or  cany  his  letter,  made  of 
green  leaves,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  carry  branches  or 
twigs  of  the  tree  of  which  he  speaks.) 

A  is  for  apple  tree^  sweet  with  bloom, 

Or  laden  with  golden  fruit. 
B  is  for  heech,  with  thick,  cool  shade, 

And  the  birches  of  ill  repute. 
C  is  for  chestnut  and  cedar  fair. 

And  cypresSy  where  sorrows  abide. 
D  is  for  dogwood,  whose  fair  white  tents 

Are  pitched  by  the  riverside. 
E  is  for  elm,  New  England's  pride; 

True  patriot's  love  they  stir. 
F  is  ioT  fig  tree  of  the  South, 

And  the  cone-shaped  northern  fir. 
G  is  for  gum  tree,  so  well  known 

To  the  southern  girls  and  boys. 
H  is  for  hemlock,  steadfast  tree. 

And  for  holly  with  Christmas  joys. 
I  is  for  ironwood,  firm  and  strong, 

And  the  ivy  that  twines  around. 
J  is  for  juniper,  low  and  green. 

Where  purple  berries  are  found. 


ARBOR  DAY  ALPHABET  337 

K  is  for  king  of  the  forest  grand, 
The  oak  must  wear  the  crown. 

L  is  for  thorny  locust,  the  larchf 
And  the  linden  of  fair  renown. 

M  is  for  maple,  favorite  one, 
The  queen  of  all  the  trees. 

N  is  for  Norway  pine,  which  still 
Is  whispering  to  the  breeze. 

O  is  for  orange,  blooming  for  brides, 
And  the  olive,  yielding  rich  oil. 

P  is  for  poplar,  reaching  high, 
And  the  palm  of  tiie  southern  soil. 

Q  is  for  quince,  in  our  gardens  low. 
With  its  fruit  so  sour  and  green. 

R  is  for  redwood,  giant  trees, 
The  largest  that  can  be  seen. 

S  is  for  spruce,  bright  evergreen, 
And  the  silvery  sycamore, 

T  is  for  tulip  tree,  broad  and  high. 
With  its  beautiful  tulip-like  flower. 

U  is  for  upas,  tropical  tree. 
With  its  fabled  poisoned  air. 

V  is  for  vines  that  cling  to  the  tree, 
For  friendship,  strength,  and  care. 

W  is  for  walnut,  dark  and  firm, 
And  for  willow,  faithful  and  true. 


338  ARBOR  DAY 

X  is  xanthoxylum,  bitter  bane 

Whose  virtue  is  strengthening  power. 

Y  is  for  yew  treCy  dwelling  alone, 
Friendless  and  sad  we  know. 

Z  is  for  zenithf  the  point  above, 
Toward  which  the  trees  all  grow. 


SONG 

(Tune,  "Buy  my  Flowers") 

Apple,  beech,  and  cedar  fair. 
Fir  and  hemlock,  worthy  pair, 
Elm  and  oak  and  maple  queen, 
Lords  and  ladies  robed  in  green! 
On  this  joyous  Arbor  Day 
Duty's  pleasant  call  obey. 

Plant  the  trees. 
Plant  the  trees  this  Arbor  Day. 

Grand  old  trees,  we  love  them  all! 
Pine  and  poplar  waving  tall, 
Tulip  tree  and  walnut,  too, 
Willow  sad  and  lonely  yew. 
On  this  joyous  Arbor  Day 
Duty's  pleasant  call  obey, 

Plant  the  trees, 
Plant  the  trees  this  Arbor  Day. 


VOICES  OF  THE  TREES  339 

VOICES  OF  THE  TREES 

BY  PROFESSOR  W.  H.  BENEDICT 

First  Pupil 

I  am  familiar  to  all  as  the  American  Elm.  I  have 
been  called  the  Queen  of  the  Forest,  and  stand  with- 
out a  rival  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  ornamental 
deciduous-leaved  trees.  I  claim  this  rank  on  account 
of  rapid  growth,  and  the  graceful  and  majestic 
beauty  of  my  drooping  branches. 

Second  Pupil, 

I  am  the  celebrated  Birch.  I  am  a  useful  factor 
in  the  cause  of  education,  though  not  now  so  com- 
monly found  in  the  schoolroom  as  in  former  years. 

Third  Pupil 

I  am  called  the  Chqstnut.  All  botanists  of  the 
present  day  agree  that  I  am  first  cousin  to  the  Oak. 
I  am  well  known  for  valuable  timber  and  a  good  crop 
of  edible  nuts.  I  am  a  great  friend  of  the  boys  and 
girls.  Sometimes  naughty  boys  seek  me  rather  than 
the  schoolroom.  Of  course  no  such  boys  live  in 
Elmira. 

Fourth  Pupil 

I  am  known  as  the  Willow.  I  live  near  the  water, 
and  my  wood  is  made  into  the  strongest  things  — 


340  ARBOR  DAY 

artificial  limbs,  tooth-picks,  ball  clubs,   and  gun- 
powder.    Some  of  us  are  called  Pussy  Willows. 

Concert  Recitation 

O  willow,  why  forever  weep, 
As  one  who  mourns  an  endless  wrong? 

What  hidden  woe  can  lie  so  deep? 
What  utter  grief  can  last  so  long? 

Mourn  on  forever,  unconsoled. 
And  keep  your  secret,  faithful  tree. 

No  heart  in  all  the  world  can  hold 
A  sweeter  grace  than  constancy. 

Fijth  Pupil. 

I  rejoice  in  the  name  of  the  Pine.  I  am  the  musi- 
cian among  the  trees.  I  sing  only  when  the  spirit 
moves.  You  may  know  when  that  is  by  the  peculiar 
swaying  of  my  head. 

Sixth  Pupil. 

Behold  in  me  the  Sugar  Maple  and  a  favorite 
ornamental  tree.  People  love  me  because  I  am 
possessed  of  sweetness.  I  claim  to  have  made  more 
boys  and  girls  happy  than  any  other  tree.  I  have 
many  changes  in  dress  —  wearing  in  the  spring  the 
softest  shade  of  every  color,  in  the  summer  the 
purest  emerald,  and  in  the  autumn  the  most  brilliant 


VOICES  OF  THE  TREES  341 

yellow.  My  wood  is  used  for  furniture,  floors,  and 
for  furnishing  the  interior  of  houses,  and  after  the 
houses  are  finished  few  can  warm  them  better  than  I. 

Seventh  Pupil. 

Behold  in  me  the  Beech.  Upon  my  smooth,  gray 
bark  many  a  heart-history  has  been  carved.  The 
poet  Campbell  tells  it  so  beautifully: 

Concert  Recitation 

Thrice  twenty  summers  have  I  stood, 
Since  youthful  lovers  in  my  shade 
Their  vows  of  truth  and  rapture  paid, 
And,  on  my  trunk's  surviving  frame, 
Carved  many  a  long-forgotten  name. 

Eighth  Pupil. 

They  call  me  Basswood.  I  am  a  fine  shade  tree, 
my  home  a  moist,  rich  soil.  My  fragrant  flowers 
furnish  a  great  amount  of  excellent  honey  for  the 
bees  at  a  time  when  most  other  flowers  have  dis- 
appeared. My  timber  is  soft,  light,  and  tough, 
and  not  apt  to  split;  good  for  cabinet  work,  boxes, 
and  broom  handles. 

Ninth  Pupil. 

Recognize  in  me  the  Hickory.  If  you  want  a 
wood  that  is  good  for  buggies,  axe  handles,  barrel 
hoops,  a  wood  like  iron,  call  upon  me.     You  will 


342  ARBOR  DAY 

have  all  the  nuts  you  want  thrown  into  the  bargain. 
Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  President  of  the 
country  who  had  so  many  of  my  qualities  that  they 
called  him  Old  Hickory. 

Tenth  Pupil 

You  see  before  you  the  Black  Spruce.  I  abound 
in  swamps.  I  am  often  used  for  Christmas  trees  on 
festive  occasions,  and  boys  and  girls  search  me  over 
for  a  supply  of  first-class  gum.  I  am  not  respons- 
ible, though,  for  all  the  gum  that  goes  by  my  name. 
Within  a  few  years  my  wood  has  been  largely  used 
to  make  white  paper. 

Concert  Recitation 

I  love  thee  in  the  spring, 
Earth-crowned  forest!  when  amid  the  shades 
The  gentle  South  first  waves  her  odorous  wing, 

And  joy  fills  all  the  glades. 

In  the  hot  summer-time. 
With  deep  delight,  the  somber  aisles  I  roam. 
Or,  soothed  by  some  cool  brook's  melodious  chime, 

Rest  on  thy  verdant  loam. 

But  oh,  when  autumn's  hand 
Hath  marked  thy  beauteous  foliage  for  the  grave. 
How  doth  thy  splendor,  as  entranced  I  stand, 

My  willing  heart  enslave! 


SCRIPTURE  SELECTIONS  343 

SCRIPTURE  SELECTIONS 

May  he  arranged  for  a  responsive  service 
Genesis 
i.  II.    And  God  said,  Let  the  earth  bring  forth  the 
fruit  tree,  yielding  fruit  after  his  kind. 
12.     And  the  earth  brought  forth  the  tree,  yield- 
ing fruit  whose  seed  was  in  itself  after  his 
kind.    And  God  said  that  it  was  good. 
29.     And  God  said.  Behold  I  have  given  you  every 
tree  in  which  is  the  fruit  of  a  tree  yielding 
seed;  to  you  it  shall  be  for  meat, 
ii.  8.     And  the  Lord  God  planted  a  garden  eastward 
in  Eden,  and  there  He  put  the  man  whom  he 
had  formed. 
9.     And  out  of  the  ground  made  the  Lord  God 
to  grow  every  tree  that  is  pleasant  to  the 
sight,  and  good  for  food;  the  tree  of  life  also 
in  the  midst  of  the  garden,  and  the  tree  of 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil. 

Deuteronomy 

viii.  7,  8,  9.  For  the  Lord  thy  God  bringeth  thee 
into  a  good  land;  a  land  of  brooks  of  water, 
of  fountains  and  depths  that  spring  out  of 
valleys  and  hills;  a  land  of  wheat  and  barley, 
and  vines,  and  fig  trees,  and  pomegranates; 
a  land  of  oil,  olive,  and  honey;  a  land  wherein 


344  ARBOR  DAY 

thou  shalt  eat  bread  without  scarceness, 
thou  shalt  not  lack  anything  in  it;  a  land 
whose  stones  are  iron,  and  out  of  whose  hills 
thou  mayest  dig  brass. 

I.  Chronicles 

xvi.  ^^,  Then  shall  the  trees  of  the  wood  sing  out 
at  the  presence  of  the  Lord. 

Job 

xiv.  7,  8,  9.  For  there  is  hope  of  a  tree,  if  it  be  cut 
down,  that  it  will  sprout  again,  and  that  the 
tender  branch  thereof  will  not  cease,  though 
the  root  thereof  wax  old  in  the  earth;  and  the 
stock  thereof  die  in  the  ground;  yet  through 
the  scent  of  water  it  will  bud  and  bring 
forth  boughs  like  a  plant. 

Psalms 

i.  I,  2,  3.  Blessed  is  the  man  whose  delight  is  in  the 
law  of  the  Lord.  He  shall  be  like  a  tree 
planted  by  the  streams  of  water  that  bringeth 
its  fruit  in  its  season,  whose  leaf  also  doth  not 
wither,  and  whatsoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper. 

xcii.  12.  The  righteous  shall  flourish  like  the  palm 
tree;  he  shall  grow  like  a  cedar  in  Lebanon. 

civ.  16,  17.  The  trees  of  the  Lord  are  full  of  sap; 
the  cedars  of  Lebanon  which  he  hath  planted; 


SCRIPTURE  SELECTIONS  345 

where  the  birds  make  their  nests;  as  for  the 
stork,  the  fir  trees  are  her  house, 
cxlviii.  9.     Mountains  and  all  hills;    fruitful  trees, 
and  all  cedars. 
13.    Let  them  praise  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

Proverbs 

iii.  18.  Wisdom  is  a  tree  of  life  to  them  that  lay 
hold  upon  her;  and  happy  is  every  one  that 
retaineth  her. 

xi.  30.    The  fruit  of  the  righteous  is  a  tree  of  life. 

xiii.  12.  Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick;  but 
when  the  desire  cometh,  it  is  a  tree  of  life. 

XV.  4.    A  wholesome  tongue  is  a  tree  of  life. 

The  Song  of  Solomon 

ii.  3.  As  the  apple  tree  among  the  trees  of  the  wood, 
so  is  my  beloved  among  the  sons.  I  sat 
down  under  his  shadow  with  great  delight, 
and  his  fruit  was  sweet  to  my  taste. 

Isaiah 

Iv.  12.  All  the  trees  of  the  field  shall  clap  their 
hands. 
13.  Instead  of  the  thorn  shall  come  up  the  fir 
tree,  and  instead  of  the  brier  shall  come  up 
the  myrtle  tree,  and  it  shall  be  to  the  Lord  for 
a  name. 


346  ARBOR  DAY 

Ix.  13.  The  glory  of  Lebanon  shall  come  unto  thee, 
the  fir  tree,  the  pine  tree  and  the  box  together. 

Ixi.  3.  That  they  might  be  called  trees  of  righteous- 
ness, the  planting  of  the  Lord,  that  he  might 
be  glorified. 

St.  Matthew 
vii.  17.    Even  so  every  good  tree  bringeth  forth  goo( 
fruit;  but  a  corrupt  tree  bringeth  forth  evi 
fruit, 
vii.  18.    A  good  tree  cannot  bring  forth  evil  fruit 
neither  can  a  corrupt  tree  bring  forth  good 
fruit. 
19.     Every  tree  that  bringeth  not  forth  good  fruii 

is  hewn  down,  and  cast  into  the  fire. 
20.    Wherefore  by  their  fruits  ye  shall  knov 
them. 

Revelation 

ii.  7.  ...  To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  giv 
to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life,  which  is  in  the  mids 
of  the  paradise  of  God. 

xxi.  10.  And  he  carried  me  away  in  the  spirit  to  i 
great  and  high  mountain,  and  showed  mt 
that  great  city,  the  holy  Jerusalem.     .     .     . 

xxii.  2.  In  the  midst  of  the  street  of  it,  and  on  either 
side  of  the  river,  was  there  the  tree  of  life, 
which  bare  twelve  manner  of  fruits,  and 
yielded  her  fruit  every  month;  and  the  leaves 
of  the  tree  were  for  the  healing  of  the  nations. 


SONGS  AND  CHORUS  347 


SONGS  AND  CHORUS  OF  THE  FLOWERS 
by  leigh  hunt 
Roses 
We  are  blushing  Roses, 

Bending  with  our  fulness, 
'Midst    our    close-capped    sister    buds 
Warming  the  green  coolness. 

Whatsoe'er  of  beauty 

Yearns  and  yet  reposes  — 
Blush,    and    bosom,    and    sweet    breath 

Took  a  shape  in  Roses. 

Hold  one  of  us  lightly, 

See  from  what  a  slender 
Stalk  we  bow'd  in  heavy  blooms, 

And  roundness  rich  and  tender. 

Know  you  not  our  only 

Rival  flower  —  the  human  ? 
Loveliest  weight  on  lightest  foot, 

Joy-abundant  woman? 

Lilies 

We  are  Lilies  fair. 

The  flower  of  virgin  light; 
Nature  held  us  forth  and  said, 

"Lol  my  thoughts  of  white." 


34^  ARBOR  DAY 

Ever  since  then,  angels 

Hold  us  in  their  hands; 
You  may  see  them  where  they  take 

In  pictures  their  sweet  stands. 

Like  the  garden's  angels 

Also  do  we  seem, 
And  not  the  less  for  being  crown'd 

With  a  golden  dream. 

Could  you  see  around  us 

The  enamoured  air, 
You  would  see  it  pale  with  bliss 

To  hold  a  thing  so  fair. 


SWEETBRIER 

Wild-rose,    Sweetbrier,    Eglantine  — 
All  these  pretty  names  are  mine. 
And  scent  in  every  leaf  is  mine, 
And  a  leaf  for  all  is  mine, 
And  the  scent  —  oh,  thafs  divine! 
Happy  sweet  and  pungent-fine, 
Pure  as  dew  and  picked  as  wine. 

As  the  Rose  in  gardens  dress' d, 

Is  the  lady  self-possess'd; 

I'm  the  lass  in  simple  vest, 

The  country  lass  whose  blood's  the  best; 

Were  the  beams  that  thread  the  brier 


SONGS  AND   CHORUS  349 

In  the  morn  with  golden  fire 
Scented  too,  they'd  smell  like  me  — 
All  Elysian  pungency. 

Violets 

We  are  Violets  blue, 

For  our  sweetness  found 
Careless  in  the  mossy  shades, 

Looking  on  the  ground. 
Love's  dropp'd   eyelids   and   a  kiss  — 
Such  our  breath  and  blueness  is. 

lo,  the  mild  shape 

Hidden  by  Jove's  fears, 
Found  us  first  i'  the  sward,  when  she 

For  hunger  stoop'd  in  tears. 
"Wheresoe'er  her  lip  she  sets," 
Jove   said,    "be  breaths   call'd   Violets." 

Poppies 

We  are  slumberous  Poppies, 

Lords  of  Lethe  downs. 
Some  awake,  and  some  asleep, 

Sleeping  in  our  crowns. 
What  perchance  our  dreams  may  know, 
Let  our  serious  beauty  show. 

Central  depth  of  purple. 

Leaves  more  bright  than  rose. 
Who  shall  tell  what  brightest  thought 


350  ARBOR  DAY 

Out  of  darkest  grows? 
Who,  thiough  what  funereal  pain 
Souls  to  love  and  peace  attain? 

Visions  aye  are  on  us, 

Unto  eyes  of  power, 
Pluto's  always-setting  sun, 

And  Proserpina's  bower. 
There,    like   bees,    the   pale   souls   come 
For  our  drink  with  drowsy  hum. 

Taste,  ye  mortals,  also; 

Milky-hearted   we; 
Taste,  but  with  a  reverend  care; 

Active,  patient  be. 
Too  much  gladness  brings  to  gloom 
Those  who  on  the  gods  presume. 

Chorus  of  Flowers 

We  are  the  sweet  flowers. 

Born  of  sunny  showers; 
(Think,  whene'er  you  see  us,  what  our  beauty  saith) ; 

Utterance,  mute  and  bright. 

Of  some  unknown  delight, 
We  fill  the  air  with  pleasure  by  our  simple  breath: 

All  who  see  us  love  us  — 

We  befit  all  places; 
Unto  sorrow  we  give  smiles  —  and,  unto  graces, 
races. 


SONGS  AND  CHORUS  351 

Think  of  all  our  treasures, 

Matchless  works  and  pleasures, 
Every  one  a  marvel,  more  than  thought  can  say; 

Then  think  in  what  bright  showers 

We  thicken  fields  and  bowers, 
And  with  what  heaps  of  sweetness  half  stifle  wanton 
May; 

Think  of  the  mossy  forests 

By  the  bee-birds  haunted, 
And   all  those  Amazonian  plains,   lone    lying   as 
enchanted. 

Trees  themselves  are  ours; 

Fruits  are  born  of  flowers; 
Beech,  and  roughest  nut  were  blossoms  in  the  spring; 

The  lusty  bee  knows  well 

The  news,  and  comes  pell-mell. 
And  dances  in  the  gloomy  thicks  with  darksome 
antheming: 

Beneath  the  very  burden 

Of  planet-pressing  ocean 
We  wash  our  smiling  cheeks  in  peace  —  a  thought  for 
meek  devotion. 

Who  shall  say  that  flowers 
Dress  not  heaven's  own  bowers  ? 
Who  its  love,  without  us,  can  fancy  —  or  sweet  floor? 
Who  shall  even  dare 
To  say  we  sprang  not  there  — 


352  ARBOR  DAY 

And  came  not  down,  that  Love  might  bring  one  piece 
of  heaven  the  more? 
Oh,  pray  believe  that  angels 
From  those  blue  dominions 
Brought  us  in  their  white  laps  down,  'twixt  their 
golden  pinions. 


NEW  YORK  STATE  PROGRAMME,  1889 
Programme 
Caution:  Do  not  make  the  programme  too  long. 

(This  programme  is  intended  to  be  merely  sugges- 
tive, and  may  be  varied  as  tastes,  circumstances  and 
opportunities  may  permit.  The  ingenuity  of  teachers 
is  relied  upon  to  make  such  changes  as  may  be 
necessary  to  interest  in  some  way  all  grades  of 
pupils,  care  being  taken  to  make  the  exercises  as 
full  of  life  as  possible.) 

Suggestions:  The  order  of  recitations  noted 
below  may  be  greatly  varied.  Different  scholars 
may  recite  one  verse  each  of  a  stated  poem,  all 
reciting  the  last  verse  in  concert.  "The  Planting 
of  the  Apple  Tree"  may  appropriately  be  used  in 
this  connection,  to  be  followed  by  singing  in  concert, 
'^Swinging  'neath  the  Old  Apple  Tree." 

A  very  appropriate  exercise  for  younger  children 
may  be  made  under  the  head  "Breezes  from  the 
Forest,"  or  "Voices  of  the  Trees,"  in  which  many 
children  may  take  part,  each  pupil  reciting  a  verse 


NEW  YORK  STATE  PROGRAMME  353 

especially  prepared.  The  first  may  begin:  ''I  am 
the  sugar  maple,"  etc.,  other  pupils  speaking  as 
other  trees.  The  following  is  given  as  an  illustration 
of  this  plan,  adopted  at  Port  Henry,  N.  Y.,  in  1888: 

''I  am  the  sugar  maple,  and  a  favorite  ornamental 
tree.  People  love  me  because  I  am  possessed  of 
sweetness.  I  claim  to  have  made  more  boys  and 
girls  happy  than  any  other  tree.  I  have  many 
changes  of  dress  —  wearing  in  spring  the  softest 
shade  of  every  color,  in  the  summer  the  purest 
emerald,  and  in  the  autumn  the  most  brilliant 
yellow.  My  wood  is  used  for  furniture,  floors, 
and  for  furnishing  the  interior  of  houses,  and 
after  the  houses  are  finished,  few  can  warm  them 
better  than  I." 

The  expression  in  the  opening  sentence  may  be 
varied,  as  ''I  am  known  as"  —  "They  call  me,"  etc. 

Older  pupils  might  interest  themselves  in  organiz- 
ing as  a  *'  Convention  of  Trees,"  each  pupil  represent- 
ing a  tree  familiar  in  the  locality,  and  to  be  called  by 
its  name.  Officers  to  be  chosen  by  name  of  trees,  and 
remarks  and  discussions  participated  in  by  members 
of  the  Convention,  to  be  recognized  by  names  of  trees. 

Compositions  may  be  prepared  by  older  students 
upon  various  subjects  connected  with  trees;  as,  for 
example,  their  uses  for  shade,  for  ornament,  for 
producing  fuel,  lumber,  etc.;  their  influence  in 
increasing  the  rainfall,  retaining  moisture,  modifying 
the  temperature,  etc. ;  their  value  in  furnishing  food, 


354  ARBOR  DAY 

materials  for  clothing;  ropes,  medicines,  oils,  homes 
for  the  birds,  houses,  furniture,  etc.;  their  value  as 
defense  against  storms,  from  avalanches  in  Switzer- 
land, and  in  preserving  health  by  counteracting  the 
influences  of  malaria,  etc. 

Compositions  may  also  be  written  on  the  size  of 
trees,  trees  in  history,  care  of  trees,  enemies  of  trees, 
the  kinds  and  habits  of  native  trees,  kinds  of  orna- 
mental trees;  also,  a  description  of  the  tree  chosen 
for  planting,  its  characteristics,  usefulness,  etc.; 
upon  varieties  of  shrubs  that  are  valuable  for  land- 
scape gardening,  their  habits  of  growth,  flowering, 
etc.  The  same  exercises  may  be  extended  to  include 
the  vines  or  flower  seeds  or  flowering  plants  that  may 
be  selected  for  cultivation. 

1.  Devotional  Exercises: 

(a)  Reading  of  Scripture:  (b)  Prayer,  (c)  Song. 
(Note.  See  Scripture  lesson  given  elsewhere. 
This  may  be  read  by  one  person,  or  different 
scholars  may  each  repeat  a  verse  or  a  sen- 
tence. Or  it  may  be  made  a  responsive  ser- 
vice, the  teacher  repeating  one  sentence,  and 
scholars  the  next). 

2.  Reading  of  the  Law  Establishing  Arbor 

Day. 

3.  Reading  of  Department  Circular,  and  of 

Letters  in  Reference  to  Arbor  Day. 
(Note.     Many  teachers  and  others  in  charge 


NEW  YORK  STATE  PROGRAMME  355 

of  exercises  may  choose  to  invite  letters  appro- 
priate to  the  occasion,  from  prominent  per- 
sons in  the  different  localities  who  are  unable 
to  be  present.) 

4.  Song. 

5.  Recitations.    By  different  pupils. 

First  Pupil 

"The  groves  were  God's  first  temples 

Ere  man  learned 
To  hew  the  shaft,  and  lay  the  architrave 
And  spread  the  roof  above  them  —  ere  he  framed 
The  lofty  vault,  to  gather  and  roll  back 
The  round  of  anthems  —  in  the  darkling  wood. 
Amidst  the  cool  and  silence,  he  knelt  down 
And  offered  to  the  Mightiest  solemn  thanks 
And  supplications." 

— Bryant. 

Second  Pupil, 

"I  shall  speak  of  trees,  as  we  see  them,  love  them, 
adore  them  in  the  fields  where  they  are  alive,  holding 
their  green  sunshades  over  our  heads,  talking  to  us 
with  their  hundred  thousand  whispering  tongues, 
looking  down  on  us  with  that  sweet  meekness  which 
belongs  to  huge  but  limited  organisms  —  which  one 
sees  most  in  the  patient  posture,  the  outstretched 
arms,  and  the  heavy  drooping  robes  of  these  vast 
beings,  endowed  with  life,  but  not  with  soul  —  which 


356  ARBOR  DAY 

outgrow  us  and  outlive  us,  but  stand  helpless,  poor 
things  —  while  nature  dresses  and  undresses  them." 

— ^Holmes. 

Third  Pupil. 

"  Give  fools  their  gold  and  knaves  their  power; 

Let  fortune's  bubbles  rise  and  fall; 
Who  sows  a  field,  or  trains  a  flower, 

Or  plants  a  tree,  is  more  than  all. 
For  he  who  blesses  most  is  blest; 
And  God  and  man  shall  own  his  worthy 
Who  toils  to  leave  as  his  bequest 

An  added  beauty  to  the  earth." 

— Whittier. 

Fourth  Pupil, 

"There  is  something  nobly  simple  and  pure  in  a 
taste  for  the  cultivation  of  forest  trees.  It  argues, 
I  think,  a  sweet  and  generous  nature  to  have  this 
strong  relish  for  the  beauties  of  vegetation,  and  this 
friendship  for  the  hardy  and  glorious  sons  of  the 
forest.  There  is  a  grandeur  of  thought  connected 
with  this  part  of  rural  economy.  ...  He  who 
plants  an  oak  looks  forward  to  future  ages,  and  plants 
for  posterity.    Nothing  can  be  less  selfish  than  this." 

— Irving. 

Fifth  Pupil. 

"What  conqueror  in  any  part  of  'Life's  broad 
field  of  battle'  could  desire  a  more  beautiful,  a  more 


NEW  YORK  STATE  PROGRAMME  357 

noble,  or  a  more  patriotic  monument  than  a  tree 
planted  by  the  hands  of  pure  and  joyous  children, 
as  a  memorial  of  his  achievements?" 

— LOSSING. 

Sixth  Pupil, 

"Oh!  Rosalind,  these  trees  shall  be  my  books, 
And  in  their  barks  my  thoughts  I'll  character, 
That  every  eye  which  in  this  forest  looks, 
Shall  see  thy  virtue  witnessed  everywhere." 

—Shakespeare. 

Seventh  Pupil, 

"There  is  something  unspeakably  cheerful  in  a 
spot  of  ground  which  is  covered  with  trees,  that 
smiles  amidst  all  the  rigors  of  winter,  and  gives  us 
a  view  of  the  most  gay  season  in  the  midst  of  that 
which  is  the  most  dead  and  melancholy." 

— Addison. 
Eighth  Pupil, 

"As  the  leaves  of  trees  are  said  to  absorb  all  nox- 
ious qualities  of  the  air,  and  to  breath  forth  a  purer 
atmosphere,  so  it  seems  to  me  as  if  they  drew  from 
us  all  sordid  and  angry  passions,  and  breathed  forth 
peace  and  philanthropy." 

— Irving. 
Ninth  Pupil. 

"I  care  not  how  men  trace  their  ancestry. 
To  ape  or  Adam;  let  them  please  their  whim; 


358  ARBOR  DAY 

But  I  in  June  am  midway  to  believe 
A  tree  among  my  far  progenitors, 
Such  sympathy  is  mine  with  all  the  race, 
Such  mutual  recognition  vaguely  sweet 
There  is  between  us." 

— Lowell. 

Tenth  Pupil. 

"Trees  have  about  them  something  beautiful  and 
attractive  even  to  the  fancy.     Since  they  canno 
change  their  plan,  are  witnesses  of  all  the  changes 
that  take  place  around  them;  and  as  some  reach  ' 
great  age,  they  become,  as  it  were,  historical  mom. 
ments,  and,  like  ourselves,  they  have  a  life  growin^ 
and  passing  away,  not  being  inanimate  and  unvaryt 
ing  like  the  fields  and  rivers.     One  sees  them  passing 
through  various  stages,  and  at  last,  step  by  step, 
approaching  death,  which  makes  them  look  still 
more  like  ourselves." 

— Humboldt. 

Eleventh  Pupil, 

"  Summer  or  winter,  day  or  night. 

The  woods  are  an  ever  new  delight; 

They  give  us  peace,  and  they  make  us  strong, 

Such  wonderful  balms  to  them  belong; 

So,  living  or  dying,  I'll  take  my  ease 

Under  the  trees,  under  the  trees." 

Stoddard. 


NEW  YORK  STATE  PROGRAMME  359 

6.  Reading  or  Declamation. 

7.  Song. 

8.  Address.  *' Our  School-houses  and  our  Homes, 

How  to  beautify  them." 
(Note.  Any  other  appropriate  subject  may  be 
selected.) 

9.  Song. 

10.    Brief  Essays.    By  different  scholars. 

(First  scholar  may  choose  for  subject,  "My 
Favorite  Tree  is  the  Oak,"  and  give  reasons. 
Other  scholars  may  follow,  taking  for  sub- 
jects the  Elm,  Maple,  Beech,  Birch,  Ash,  etc. 
These  essays  should  be  very  short.) 

I.    Song. 

:2.    Voting  on  the  Question.    '*What  is  the 
Favorite  State  Tree?" 

13.  Reading  or  Recitation. 

14.  Song. 

15.  Organization  of  Local  "Shade-Tree  Plant- 

ing Association." 
(See  suggestions  under  this  head  elsewhere.) 
(Note.    The  scholars  should  at  least  appoint 
a  committee  to  serve  for  a  year  to  see  that 
trees  planted  are  properly  cared  for.) 

16.  Song. 

Programme  —  At  the  Tree 

Suggestions:  Arriving  at  the  place  designated  for 
the  planting  of  a  tree,  everything  should  be  found  in 


36o  ARBOR  DAY 

readiness  by  previous  preparation,  in  order  that 
there  may  be  no  delay.  By  arrangement,  the  tree 
should  be  dedicated  to  some  particular  person  as 
may  have  been  decided.  It  would  be  well  to  have 
printed  or  painted  on  tin  or  wood,  and  attached  to 
the  tree,  the  name  of  the  person  to  whom  it  is 
dedicated. 

After  a  marching  song  has  been  sung  on  the 
way  to  the  tree,  the  following  order  of  exercises  is 
suggested: 

1.  Place  the  Tree  Carefully  in  Position. 

(See  5,  below). 
(Note.    When  advisable,  the  tree  may  be  placed 
in  position  in  advance  of  the  exercises.) 

2.  Song. 

3.  A  brief  statement  by  the  teacher  or  another 

concerning  the  person  to  whom  the  tree  is 
dedicated. 

4.  When  practicable  —  recital  of  quotations  from 

the  writings  of  the  person  thus  honored. 

5.  Let  each  pupil  in  the  class,  or  such  as  may  be 

designated,  deposit  a  spadeful  of  earth. 

6.  Song. 

(Note.  Where  impracticable  to  plant  trees  — 
shrubs,  vines  or  flowers  may  be  substituted. 
A  flower  bed  may  be  laid  out,  ajid  vines  set 
in  or  seeds  planted.) 


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